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JAMES     WEBB     ROGER 


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LE  LIVRE 


M.  BOYER  RICHARDS©N 

3/3  -£?  ^^  *f- 


WAR-TIME  WIRELESS 
INVENTOR  IS  DEAD 
AT    ADVANCED    AGE 

*2  *?  "  ^T 

WASHINGTON,  Dec.  12— (/P)— 
J.  Harris  Rogers.  79,  whose  inventions 
in  the  field  of  wireless  communication 
were  of  inestimable  benefit  to  the 
country  during  the  World  War,  died 
today  at  his  home  in  Hyattsville,  Md., 
near  Washington,  after  a  heart  at- 
tack. 

Devices  that  he  perfected  enabled 
the  government  to  carry  on  uninter- 
rupted communication  with  the  allied 
governments  in  wartime  and  an  un- 
derwater radio  communications  meth- 
od he  developed  was  used  by  submerg- 
ed submarines  in  transmitting  mes- 
sages to  battleships,  airplanes  and 
shore  stations.  Using  an  underground 
loop  aerial  ins^ajledjn  a  well  be  was. 
able  to  listen,  in* on  German  official  ' 
reports  of  FaTfles  and  submarine 
operations.      ~  -  * 

'  Tii    1919    the    general    assembly    of 
Maryland  gave  him  a  vote  of  thanks 
for  his  service  to  the  country  and  con- 
tributions to  science  during  the  war. 
I  He  received  a  number  of  honorary  de- 
!  grees  for  research  work  and  contribu- 
|  tions  to  science.     He  was  a  native  of 
I  Franklin,  Tenn,     He  had  never  mar- 
I  ried.  « 


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LINCOLN  ROOM 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


zADVER  TISEMENT 

/0#£SAR  wept  for  Pompey;  Great  Britain  has,  in  Poet's  Corner, 
"  Westminister  Abbey,  a  statue  of  George  Washington.  The 
Walhalla  of  Bavaria  knows  no  distinction  of  rival  factions.  Even 
Russia  permits  the  monument  at  Cracow,  dedicated  to  her  fallen 
foes.  Santa  Croche  contains  the  great  men  of  Italy — her  rival 
factions  sleeping  side  by  side.  The  Madeleine  was  dedicated  by  the 
Revolutionists  to  the  Great  Men  of  France,  no  matter  on  which  side 
they  fell.  Napoleon  the  Great,  while  passing  his  wounded  enemies 
at  Austerlitz,  lifted  his  cap  and  exclaimed:  "Honeur  au  courage 
Malheur euse!" 

In  the  same  spirit  the  last  of  the  Confederate  bards  admits  to  a 
niche  with  Confederate  heroes  his  fallen  but  illustrious  foes — 
foemen  worthy  the  steel  of  Lee  and  Jackson!  They  believed  that 
sovereignty  resided  in  the  Union  of  States  rather  than  in  each  State 
of  a  Confederation.  This  was  the  issue;  honesty  of  purpose,  valor 
and  patriotism  on  either  side.  Both  sealed  their  faith  with  blood — 
"Honeur  au  courage  Malheureuse!!" 


V 


en 


James  Webb  Rogers  lawyer,  born  in  Hillsborough,  North  Caro- 
lina, 11  July,  1822.  He  was  graduated  at  Princeton  in  1841  and 
then  studied  for  the  ministry.  After  taking  orders  in  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church  he  became  pastor  of  St.  Paul's  parish  in  Franklin, 
Tenn.,  and  while  in  that  State  was  instrumental  in  building  six 
churches.  He  was  a  partisan  of  the  south  at  the  beginning  of  the 
civil  war  and  served  in  the  Confederate  army  under  Gen.  Leonidas 
Polk.  Subsequently  he  went  to  England,  remaining  there  for  some 
time,  and  in  1868  he  became  a  Roman  Catholic.  On  his  return  to 
the  United  States  he  settled  first  in  New  York  city,  afterward  in 
Indianapolis,  Ind.,  where  he  edited  the  Central  Catholic,  and  then 
removed  to  Washington  city,  where  he  studied  law.  After  being 
admitted  to  practice  he  became  associated  with  his  son  as  attorney  in 
the  protection  and  sale  of  the  latter's  inventions.  His  publications 
include  "Laritte,  or  the  Greek  Slave"  (Boston,  1870)  ;  "Madame 
Surratt,  a  Drama  in  Five  Acts"  (Washington,  1879)  ;  "Arlington 
and  Other  Poems"   (1883),  and  "Parthenon"   (Baltimore,   1887). 


A^b-- 


A  Drama  in  Five  Acts 

By 
J.  W.  ROGERS 

TO  THE  PUBLIC 

Harmony  being  now  restored  and  the  Union  preserved,  I  have  endeavored 
to  present  the  terrific  scenes  with  which  our  great  Rebellion  closed ;  and 
beg  leave  to  suggest  that  the  harsh  expressions,  put  here  into  the  mouths 
of  both  Confederate  and  Federal  actors,  find  no  place  in  my  own  heart,  nor 
in  the  hearts,  I  trust,  of  any  of  my  countrymen  in  either  section  of  the  Union ; 
but  in  writing  a  drama  of  the  times  I  found  it  necessary  to  make  the 
representatives  of  either  party  speak  as  they  formerly  felt  If  my  work 
should  live,  it  will  stand  as  a  beacon  over  a  bloody  sea,  to  warn  our  children, 
when  we  who  fought  upon  it  shall  have  passed  away. 

J.  W.  Rogers. 


FOURTH     EDITION 


press  or 
JUDD  &  DETWEILER.    Inc. 

WASHINGTON,    D.     O. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://www.archive.org/details/madamesurrattdraOOilroge 


a 


I 


& 


"DEDICATION 

\  * 

HPHE  author  dedicates  this  drama  to  his  son,  J.  Harris  Rogers, 

whose   scientific    discoveries    have    blessed    him    with    fame    and 

§  fortune;  but,  far  above  these,  his  whole  life  demonstrates  that  filial 

devotion,  girl-like'  innocence,  and  simplicity  of  character  are  com- 
>  patible  with  lofty  genius,  a  solid  judgment,  learning  and  wit. 

I  ask  no  Midas  with  his  golden  art, 
His  muckish  name,  nor  overladen  vaults; 

But  lofty  genius,  and  a  loving  heart, 

To  smile  upon  me,  and  forgive  my  faults. 


[5] 


"DRAMATIS  "PERSON AE 


President  Lincoln  and  family. 

President  Johnson. 

Madame  Surratt. 

Annie  Surratt. 

John  Surratt. 

Lieutenant  Beall. 

Lilly  Beall. 

J.  Wilkes  Booth. 

Edwin  Booth. 


I 


Agnes  Booth. 

General  Mussy. 

Wm.  H.  Seward. 

Payne. 

Atzerot. 

Herold. 

Dr.  Mary  Trotter. 

Baker  and  Conger,  Detectives. 

President  Davis. 

Robert  E.  Lee. 


Ghosts,  Officers,  Soldiers,  &c. 


6} 


Madame  Surratt 

ACT  I. 

SCENE  I — Road  near  Arlington — Sentinel  on   Guard. 

1st  sentinel. 

More  numerous  than  pigeons,  when  they  cloud 

The  face  of  Heaven,  by  their  stormy  wings, 

Come  ghostly  couriers,  sweeping  over  head 

To  Arlington ; 

And  from  the  bowels  of  the  Earth 

Gray  spirits  mount, 

To  the  same  dread  spot  for  conference. 

Perhaps  the  war  is  closing,  and  those  counselors, 

Of  other  generations,  taking  part, 

May  now  be  agitating  terms  of  peace. 

Last  night  they  flocked  about  me ;  but  by  Heaven ! 

I  would  not  gaze  upon  that  crowd  again — 

My  hairs  on  end,  and  cold  drops  flaring  over  me, 

For  all  the  pomp  and  glory  of  the  war. 

Their  port  mysterious,  and  unsocial  eyes, 

The  smell  of  coffins,  on  their  midnight  robes, 

And  deep  sepulchral  voices  fright  my  soul. 

Alarmed  at  footfalls.    Enter  2d  Sentinel. 
'Tis  but  the  sentinel  to  take  my  watch. 
Thank  God  'twas  not  that  bloodless  caravan ! 
Most  welcome,  sentinel ;  you  are  just  in  time — 
Now,  fall  asleep  as  soon  as  possible. 

2d  sentinel. 
Asleep  ? 

1st  sentinel. 

Aye,  post  you  to  the  dusky  land  of  nod, 

Or  sights  more  terrible  than  dreams  will  come. 

2d  sentinel. 

What  of  that  rumor  in  the  camp — 

That  ghosts  and  goblins  fright  our  soldiers  here? 

Say,  sentinel,  what  time  do  they  appear? 

[7] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


1st  sentinel. 

Sometimes  early;  sometimes  late  they  come; 
But  when  the  mocking-bird,  with  dulcet  note, 
Sweetens  the  midnight  air,  and  whip-poor-wills 
Bewail  so  piteously,  the  master's  lash, 
If  suddenly  they  hush,  and  in  a  tone 
Of  trepidation,  cautious  and  subdued, 
Give  unlinked  harmonies,  as  in  soliloquy, 
Then  look,  and  on  yon  Heights  of  Arlington 
You'll  see  whole  troops  of  disembodied  spirits. 

2d  sentinel. 

To  see  a  ghost  hath  been  my  lifelong  prayer — 

My  nurses  told  me  of  them  long  ago;  ha!  ha!  ha! 

And  preachers — ha!  ha!  ha — they  make  their  living  by  them. 

But  say,  soldier,  have  you  really  seen  such  ? 

1st  sentinel. 

Last  night  I  saw  them — aye,  and  heard  them  too — 

Asses  can  see  their  provender,  and  fools, 

Born  to  be  damned — mere  brutes,  see  nothing  more; 

But  I  was  born  with  a  caul  on  my  face, 

And,  in  fact,  all  lofty  souls  can  see  spirits. 

They  walk  about  the  world  most  numerous, 

When  nations  tremble,  or  great  States  dissolve, 

As  in  Jerusalem,  when  "they  that  slept  arose" 

And  came  into  the  holy  city 

And  appeared  to  many;"  for  those  prisoners  felt 

The  Roman  Empire  shake,  when  God  was  on  the  Cross. 

There!  there  they  go — your  prayer  is  answered  promptly — 

So  follow  them ;  but  as  for  me, 

I'll  seek  a  livelier  company. 

Exit. 

2d  sentinel. 

To  the  limit  of  my  watch  will  I  follow  them — 
If  spies,  to  capture,  and  if  ghosts,  to  prove. 
O,  that  I  had  a  silver  bullet  now! 

Exit. 

[8] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


SCENE  II. — Arlington  Cemetery — Ghosts  of  Washington  and  other 
American  heroes — Federal  and  Confederate  Ghosts — of  Colum- 
bus, De  Soto  and  other  Discoverers — Pocahontas,  Powhatan  and 
other  Indian  Chiefs — John  Brown  on  side  of  stage,  near  the  Au- 
dience— Music,  Star-Spangled  Banner — Banner,  13  Stars,  Waving. 

WASHINGTON. 

These  direful  tidings  and  this  day  of  blood 

Cry  loud  to  Heaven!  and  Heaven  appoints  this  conference. 

Let  him  who  rendered  in  immortal  verse 

Our  banner — Key,  of  Maryland — first  speak. 

ALL. 

Key ! — Key ! ! — a  song  from  Key ! ! ! 

KEY. 

When  Freedom,  crushed  and  bleeding  on  the  ground, 

Abandoned  every  other  hope  for  man, 

To  Heaven  she  cried,  and  Heaven,  in  pity,  gave 

This  new-born  world,  uprising  from  the  sea. 

Its  hills  came  forth,  with  kine  and  cattle  crowned, 

And  all  the  valleys  teemed  with  jocund  song. 

Like  cowled  monks,  the  misty  mountains  rose 

To  Heaven's  high  altar,  lighted  by  the  stars; 

Cecilian  thunders  leaped  along  the  skies, 

And  lightnings  darted  in  the  face  of  kings. 

Great  rivers,  flashing  to  the  sun,  rolled  on ; 

And  solitude  stood  listening  to  their  cataracts. 

Beneath  the  virgin  soil  were  golden  yams, 

More  luscious  than  the  roots  of  Ind.  or  Africa. 

Enormous  melons  lay  upon  the  ground, 

With  nectar  filled — a  banquet  for  the  Gods! 

Gigantic  birds,  unknown  to  other  climes, 

With  coral  neck  and  beard  upon  their  breasts, 

Of  consequential  step  and  curious  goblins 

Strutted  unconscious  of  a  tyrant's  power — 

A  mammoth  corn  with  golden  ears  was  there, 

And  fruits  perennial  smiled  in  every  grove. 

Upon  ten  thousand  plains  fair  flowers  bloomed, 

And  o'er  them,  like  the  billows  of  the  sea, 

Dashed  the  wild  herd  of  plunging  buffalo. 

[9] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


The  waves — the  waters  laughed  and  winds  sang  loud, 
To  Freedom  weeping  on  that  distant  shore — 
Up  from  the  dust  she  sprang,  on  whirlwinds  flew, 
To  climb  the  mountains  of  her  own  bright  world — 
Thence  gazing  on  her  children,  all  abroad, 
And  lifting  high  her  standard  to  the  breeze, 
She  spread  her  stars  upon  its  ample  folds, 
And  welcomed  all  the  nations  of  the  Earth. 
Accursed  be  he  who  strikes  that  banner  down ! 
Thrice  cursed  her  sons  who  would  not  lift  it  up. 
Let  death  and  leanness  enter  in  their  ranks, 
While  Hell  gapes  wide  to  take  them  down ! 

POWHATAN. 

Behold  a  king — no  jewel  in  his  crown, 

But  feathers  from  his  own  imperial  bird. 

Powhatan  salutes  ye — Minnehaha's  Lord, 

And  Pocahontas'  father — cheated  of  his  child, 

Who  pined  and  perished  in  a  foreign  land — 

Behold  him  standing  where  his  fathers  stood — 

Ere  yet  the  canting  Christian  crushed  his  heart — 

Burnt  down  his  wigwam,  stole  his  child, 

And  murdered  Minnehaha  in  her  bed. 

Truth  hast  thou  told  for  once,  thou  lying  tongue: 

"Upon  ten  thousand  plains,  fair  flowers  bloomed, 

And  o'er  them,  like  the  billows  of  the  sea, 

Dashed  the  wild  herd  of  plunging  buffalo." 

Those  flowers,  now  drooping  with  papooses'  blood, 

And  slain  like  buffalo,  their  warlike  sires ; 

But  chanting  still  their  war  songs  as  they  died ; 

They  cursed  your  friendship  and  your  power  defied. 

Well  hast  thou  said  the  waters  laughed — 

AM,  3'es,  my  Minnehaha ;  fare  thee  well ! 

Thou  laughing  water ;  fare  thee  well ! 

O,  my  Minnehaha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

Exit,  sobbing. 
Exeunt  Indians. 

JOHN    BROWN. 

Now  stand  rebuked,  thou  squeaking  trump  of  liberty; 

Harken  to  me  and  I  will  tell  thee  more. 

The  red  man  and  the  black  man,  both  are  men. 

[10] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Your  lofty  strain  might  more  become 

Some  patriot,  taught  by  Christian  charity — 

Some  Wilberforce,  or  Cowper,  when  he  cried: 

"I  would  not  have  a  slave  to  till  my  ground, 

To  fan  me  when  I  sleep  and  tremble  when  I  wake, 

For  all  the  wealth  of  India  bought, 

Or  sinews  ever  earned." 

Vile  Anthropophagae !  your  fathers  all 

Traded  in  human  flesh,  poor  flesh  and  blood! 

But  I  was  Freedom's  first  apostle  on  these  shores 

And  struck,  at  Harper's  Ferry,  for  the  rights  of  man. 

KEY. 

To  purchase  captives  and  to  give  them  homes, 

Redeeming  them  from  death  or  pagan  rule; 

Was  ever  merciful ;  but  he  who  first 

Enslaved  the  free-born  soul  must  bear  the  mark  of  Cain. 

PATRICK  HENRY. 

The  captive  once  enthralled,  no  Christian  law 
Forbade  his  change  of  masters,  nay,  sweet  mercy 
Throughout  all  time  compelled  her  favored  sons 
To  buy  the  captive  from  a  cruel  lord — 
From  Jew  or  Vandal,  Turk  or  Infidel — 
And  use  his  service  for  the  ransom  paid. 
'Twas  thus  our  Washington  his  fuglemen 
Restrained  with  firm  but  gentle  hand. 
Lo,  Washington  my  witness !  for  he  soothed 
With  lighter  chain  the  captive  driven  to  his  door. 
Aye,  by  your  fathers,  driven  to  Arlington, 
Chilblains  upon  their  feet  and  fetters  on  their  hands, 
But  like  those  hemorrhoids,  once  on  Israel  sent, 
The  Mains  and  fetters  now  return  to  you. 

WASHINGTON. 

Charles  Carroll,  speak. 

ALL. 

Hear!  hear !— Charles  Carroll,  of  Carrollton — hear!  hear! 


MADAME       SURRATT 


CARROLL. 

When  Freedom  first  upon  these  shores  unfurled 

The  banner  of  the  cross,  all  earth  rejoiced. 

But  lo,  a  cloud  uprising  from  the  sea — 

At  first  no  bigger  than  a  prophet's  hand, 

Yet  destined  soon  to  burst  upon  mankind! 

England's  armadas,  staggering  on  the  deep, 

Drag  Africa  in  chains  across  the  wave : 

And  Freedom  shrieks — commingling  her  sad  tears 

With  thine,  O  Cleopatra,  falling  fast 

On  Plymouth  rock,  and  freezing  as  they  fall ; 

For  there  the  slaver,  packed  with  dusky  forms, 

First  vomited  its  curse  and  slavery  on  these  shores ; 

The  Mayflower  bore  them,  and  her  pilgrims  sang 

Loud  songs  to  Liberty,  imploring  Heaven 

To  lull  the  storm  and  land  each  cargo  safe. 

And  when  the  cable  rustled  on  the  shore, 

The  captives'  freedom  lost  forevermore, 

Those  glorious  Pilgrim  Saints,  all  English  born, 

Rolled  their  white  eyes  to  Heaven  and  twanged  each  nasal  horn, 

Returning  thanks,  that  God  had  given  to  that  shore 

To  be  baptized,  the  poor,  benighted  blackamore. 

New  England's  avarice  and  her  prayerful  sons 

Transfer  the  prisoner  to  Southern  clime, 

And  take  Virginia's  gold,  their  price  for  blood. 

But  all  may  yet  be  well ;  for  Heaven  is  watchful, 

Though  her  children  weep — sweet  mercy  pleads 

Before  the  King  of  Kings — Pope  Urbin,  too, 

And  Benedict,  on  every  slaver's  mast — 

Aye!  though  a  King  should  charter  it, 

Have  launched  the  dreadful  curse  of  Rome. 

The  prisoner  transferred  to  Southern  clime 

May  yet  be  free :  for  mutual  jealousies 

Of  North  and  South  may  break  his  chain. 

Their  rival  interests  and  the  shock  of  arms — 

But  not  their  charity,  can  shatter  it; 

For  one  his  service — one  his  vote — demands — 

But  see,  on  yonder  heights  of  Arlington — 

One  eagle  holds  a  trembling  bird — 

Another  eagle,  crouching  for  the  prey, 

Rushes  to  combat — lo !  they  fight  and  die  ; 

[12] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


But  see !  the  bird  hath  mounted  to  the  sky. 

Then  lift  thy  standards,  Freedom,  and  thy  cross  display. 

Peal  all  thy  thunders,  let  thy  cannon  peal, 

For  every  chain  is  shattered,  and  the  bondman  free. 

Music,  Hail  Columbia. 

WASHINGTON. 

The  storm  is  passing,  and  the  Union  saved ; 
The  Blue  and  Gray  shall  mingle,  side  by  side ; 
One  Union  banner  waving  over  all, 
With  glory's  sentinel  to  guard  our  graves 
And  keep  his  watch,  till  time  shall  be  no  more. 

Enter  seceded  States,  dressed  in  mourning,  each  with  a  star  on  her 
forehead  and  a  cross  in  her  hand. 

1st  state. 

As  deputy  for  these  fair  States,  I  come 
To  ask  a  place  upon  that  glorious  banner. 

ALL. 

Father  of  our  country,  hail !  admits  us  there. 

WASHINGTON. 

Then  lift  each  cross  to  Heaven,  and  swear 
To  guard  that  banner  till  the  day  of  doom. 

ALL. 

We  swear!  we  swear! 
Amen!  Amen! 

Music,  Star-Spangled  Banner 

KEY. 

That  cross  so  glorious  on  the  battle  field, 
Hath  tenfold  glory  now  in  sorrow's  hand ; 
Go  plant  it,  then,  above  your  glorious  dead  ; 
And  leave  it  there,  O  leave  it  on  those  graves 
That  heave  along  like  ocean's  troubled  waves. 
Protect  it  there  'gainst  each  invader's  hand, 
For  they  are  all  cradled  in  their  native  land. 
Perhaps  mistaken  in  their  fiery  zeal ; 
But  all  Americans,  true  as  their  steel ; 

[13] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Perchance  too  zealous  for  a  doubtful  right, 

But  martyrs  to  their  faith,  they  fell  in  fight : 

Then  twine  the  wreath  and  let  your  crosses  tell 

To  coming  time  where  fruitless  valor  fell. 

Where  sleep  the  brave,  who  left  upon  the  cliffs  of  time 

Their  names  immortal  and  their  deeds  sublime. 

A  moment's  anger,  like  the  tempest's  wrath, 

Swept  in  its  fury  o'er  our  country's  path. 

But  there  she  stands,  triumphant  o'er  the  storm, 

Our  Stars  and  Stripes  around  her  glorious  form. 

Her  sword  still  red,  but  lifted  high  to  Heaven, 

Proclaims  the  tempest  past,  the  past  forgiven: 

Alas!  she  weeps,  'tis  now  her  sacred  trust 

To  watch  each  warrior's  grave  and  guard  his  dust — 

To  guard  the  glory  of  each  soldier's  name 

And  consecrate  it  to  his  Country's  fame. 

No  foreign  flag  shall  wave  above  her  dead, 

Nor  tyrant  foot,  nor  timid  slave  shall  tread 

Where  Canby  fought  or  Stonewall  Jackson  bled. 

But  glory's  banner,  to  their  fathers  dear, 

Shall  catch  from  every  wounded  heart  a  tear 

And  shine,  a  rainbow,  bright  as  when  it  spanned 

The  first  wild  storm  that  swept  our  native  land. 

WASHINGTON. 

Yon  morning  star,  our  captain  in  the  sky, 
Commands  us  to  retire  to  our  tents. 

GENERAL    MORGAN. 

Stay,  stay,  regardless  of  the  morning  star. 
Your  loving  harmonies  are  beautiful  indeed, 
Then  hie  ye  to  your  green,  well-tended  graves, 
While  we  return  to  brushwood  and  to  rocks 
Where  vultures  tore  our  flesh  and  left  our  bones; 
Where  weeping  mothers  seek  for  us  in  vain, 
And  toil  as  slaves  to  keep  a  little  life 
Still  in  our  baby  brothers,  telling  them  the  tale — 
And  when  our  fortunes  stolen  shall  be  returned, 
And  when  magnanimous  as  ye  pretend, 
The  nation  gives  us  graves  and  hands  to  tend  them ; 
Aye,  then ;  but  not  till  then,  our  dust  can  mingle. 


[14] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


JOHN    BROWN. 

You  lie!  your  fortunes  were  not  stolen — we  took 

In  spoils  of  war  the  gold  which  ye  had  coined 

From  human  blood — 'Twas  I  that  led  the  van ; 

At  Harper's  Ferry  first  I  struck  for  liberty. 

When  your  unequal  laws,  accursed  and  hellish, 

Did  hang  me  like  a  dog  till  dead,  dead,  dead ! 

Then  all  the  North  was  caught  into  a  blaze, 

For  I  was  there — (ha!  ha!  ha!)  John  Brown  was  marching  on, 

Your  moderate  men,  as  Jackson — ours  too — 

Such  snivelers  as  Ellsworth  I  detest, 

And  Lincoln  also,  a  soft-hearted  fool, 

Favors  the  rebels  whom  a  man  of  grit 

Had  hung  and  shot  as  fast  as  they  were  cought. 

I'd  burn  the  serpents — men  and  women,  too, 

And  send  them  writhing  down  to  hell 

For  trading  in  human  flesh  and  turning  men  to  beasts. 

God  gave  no  property  to  man ;  but  force 

First  seized  it,  trampling  down  the  weak, 

And  weakness  yielded  to  the  brave  and  powerful. 

So  strength  prevailed  and  property  arose ; 

But  they  who  sing  "John  Brown  is  marching  on" 

Will  one  day  raze  yon  cities  from  their  base — 

God  speed  the  day  and  hell  light  up  their  torches! 

New  York,  Chicago,  Pittsburgh,  and  St.  Louis,  all 

Shall  have  their  guillotines  to  make  France  tremble — 

For  her  little  spirit  of  blood  was  as  nothing  to  that  glorious  sea. 

Give  me  the  men  who  carry  fire  and  sword, 

Give  me  a  Morton,  Sherman  or  a  Wade, 

To  sweep  with  besoms  of  destruction — 

Then  go,  ye  rebels,  to  the  rocks  again ; 

Ye  have  no  country  and  deserve  no  graves! 

GENERAL    MORGAN. 

What  though  we  have  no  country — our  fathers, 
Led  up  by  Washington,  defended  yours, 
And  struck  the  British  lion  at  your  door : 
What  tho'  their  sons  should  have  no  graves— 
"On  fame's  eternal  camping  ground 

[15] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Our  silent  tents  are  spread, 

And  Glory  guards  with  solemn  round 

The  bivouac  of  our  dead." 

WASHINGTON. 

This  war  of  words  avails  us  not ; 

The  Conference  is  ended — let  us  Hence. 


JOHN    BROWN. 

Go  to,  ye  snivellers,  for  I  alone 

Rushed  single  handed  on  the  Devil's  own ; 

And  have  a  right  to  walk  by  day,  while  you 

Are  frightened  by  a  little  morning  dew — 

A  cock  can  scare  ye,  but  yon  morning  star 

Was  my  companion  at  the  gate  of  war — 

At  Harper's  Ferry,  o'er  the  gulches  wide, 

It  led  my  army  to  the  other  side, 

Clambering  o'er  rocks  by  cyclops  flung 

In  some  great  battle  when  the  world  was  young. 

It  saw  me  strike — Aye !  sees  me  striking  still 

Giving  to  other  men  my  stubborn  will. 

BOOTH  passes  and  exit. 

There!  there!  Wilkes  Booth!  now  for  a  little  sport. 

I'll  make  the  crater  of  his  soul  my  fort, 

And  Freedom's  banner,  from  its  heights  unfurled, 

Shall  lead  a  host  of  Devils  through  the  world ; 

For  lofty  souls,  by  hellish  impulse  driven, 

Are  Hell's  best  arsenals,  when  touching  Heaven ; 

And  his,  though  dipped  in  Heaven's  ethereal  blue, 

Hath  craters  vast,  for  Hell  to  thunder  through ; 

Then  let  me  seize  its  heights,  and  hold  the  while, 

Gazing  on  all  beneath  with  lurid  smile ; 

Then  from  its  pinnacles  all  stained  with  blood, 

I'll  leap  into  the  raging  multitude; 

And  give  to  working  men  a  higher  law, 

To  hold  the  world  and  capital  in  awe. 

Till  the  Freemen  of  the  North, 

Whose  children  feed  on  broth, 

Light  up  the  avenging  fire, 

[16] 


Exit. 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Leaping  from  spire  to  spire — 

My  spirit  soaring  higher; 

Till  toiling  millions  find  their  shackles  gone, 

And  shout  to  Heaven,  "John  Brown  is  marching  on." 

Enter  Booth,  and  exit. 

See !  see !  he  comes  again,  but  paler  far 

That  when  I  met  him  at  the  gate  of  war ; 

For  then  a  volunteer — most  valiant  man ! 

He  joined  Virginia's  troops  to  meet  my  clan — 

At  Charleston  guarded  me  and  saw  me  die. 

But  time  avenges  every  villainy — 

What  though  he  live,  I  have  a  grudge  to  take, 

Which  all  the  villain's  blood  can  never  slake; 

Then  let  me  drive  him  on  in  crime,  till  men 

Pursue  him,  like  the  tiger  to  his  den — 

Start  at  his  name,  instinctively  turning  round, 

To  find  a  hissing  serpent  in  its  sound. 

Mothers  all  trembling — clasping  in  their  arms 

Scared  infants  as  his  passing  shade  alarms ; 

While  wrinkled  hags,  by  wolves  and  witches  nursed, 

Cover  their  faces  at  his  name  accursed. 

Rise,  rise,  ye  mantles  of  the  dead,  and  tear 

The  womb  of  time,  that  I  may  see  him  struggling  there. 

See !  see !  he  strikes  at  yonder  towering  heads 

Whose  murdered  millions  lie  in  gory  beds, 

And  now  prophetic  demons,  in  their  rage, 

Ride  on  the  storm — now  stoop  to  yonder  stage. 

And  now  a  prophet's  mantle  on  the  air 

Shakes  pestilence  and  death — my  hangman  there 

Strikes  Lincoln  down ;  and  yonder  shooting  star 

Reveals  the  last  dread  tragedy  of  war! 

See !  see !  the  villain  comes ;  but  knows  it  not 

That  I  have  marked  the  very  hour  and  spot — 

Then  rise,  ye  curtains  of  the  night,  and  show 

The  violets  withering  where  his  foot-prints  glow ; 

Ye  Devils  rise  and  plunge  into  his  soul, 

Till  the  whole  world  shall  shake  from  pole  to  pole — 

But  when  the  deed  is  done  and  darkness  shrouds  the  sun, 

And  Lincoln  lies  upon  his  bier, 

Pursue  the  blood-stained  murderer, 

[17] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Still  whispering  in  his  ear, 

John  Brown  is  marching  on — is  here! 

And  when  in  fire  and  flame  the  villain  dies, 

Let  thunder  peals  proclaim  it  through  the  skies! 

Exit. 


Enter  J.  Wilkes  Booth. 


BOOTH. 


Hyperion,  like  a  chariot  all  on  fire, 

Rides  up  among  the  stars,  and  gray  cold  morning, 

Opes  once  more  her  eyes  on  yonder  Capitol — 

Once  more  Virginia  shakes  her  clanking  chains 

And  lifts  them  up  imploringly  to  Arlington — 

Nest  of  her  eagles !  once  so  dear  to  thee ! 

O  Liberty!  thy  cradle  and  thy  tomb! 

O  glorious  Arlington !  home  of  a  hero ! 

Thy  festive  arches,  loath  to  let  them  die, 

Repeated  oft  the  words  of  Washington, 

While  Madison,  Monroe  and  Jefferson 

Held  high  discourse  on  forms  of  human  right ; 

Or  bent  the  bow,  when  strung  too  long, 

To  ladies  fair,  in  many  a  social  hour ! 

Here  oft,  alas !  my  own  exulting  voice 

Rang  out  in  childhood's  unsuspecting  glee — 

And  other  voices  calling  me  to  play, 

Now  silent  in  their  stiff  and  gory  gray. 

Ah!  yes;  the  stage  is  sad,  when  those  we  played  with 

Have  all  gone  to  rest!    Then  hear  my  vow, 

Ye  murdered  and  neglected  ones,  whose  bones 

Lie  bleaching  on  the  hillsides  where  we  played: 

Not  unavenged,  your  ghosts  shall  walk  this  scene — 

Envious  of  the  foemen,  sleeping  in  your  beds, 

And  proud  to  stick  their  blue  plebeian  noses, 

Even  in  death,  beneath  the  kerchief  of  a  Custis — 

To  have  it  said  that  they  were  lodged  at  Arlington ! 

Ye,  our  Fathers — Sons  of  the  South,  look  down ! 

And  thou,  Virginia — mother  of  Statesmen — 

Wake  with  the  morning ;  but  awake  to  weep 

For  your  fair  bosom,  once  bedecked  wi'  flowers, 

All  brooched  and  jeweled  o'er  with  golden  corn, 

[18] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Heaves  only  now  with  graves — a  nation's  sepulchre ! 

And  thou,  my  Maryland,  dear  to  this  heart, 

Look  down  from  yonder  hills  and  judge  me  kindly, 

Like  some  poor  mother,  half  demented,  thou 

Dost  rock  the  cradle  of  thy  buried  children, 

Still  muttering  thine  own  immortal  poet's  song, 

Though  half  the  stars  have  fallen  from  his  banner — 

I  cannot  sing  that  song,  but  I  can  perish, 

And  wrestling — clutching  yon  strong  columns, 

I  will  drag  them  down,  and  Dagon's  host 

Shall  perish  with  me! 

Hark!  hark!  the  reveille  of  yonder  camp! 

Its  rumbling  cannon,  presage  of  a  storm ; 

Surcharged  with  thunder,  and  the  bolts  of  death, 

Those  clattering  horses,  and  war-bearing  messengers ; 

Like  vultures  balanced  on  the  dusky  cloud ; 

That  merry  marching,  measured  to  the  fife, 

The  drum  and  trumpet — shouts,  and  neighing  steeds, 

Proclaim  new  levies  and  a  countless  host, 

To  batten  on  the  South,  already  sunk  so  low — 

Nothing  but  Intervention  now  can  save  us — 

What  if  mad  havoc,  riding  on  the  air, 

Should  pluck  the  tallest  tassels  of  the  field  ; 

What  if  a  President  and  his  whole  Cabinet 

Were  taken  up  to  Heaven? — Confusion  dire 

All  order  would  confound,  till  France  and  England 

Recognized  the  South,  and  left  her  children  free ! 

Down  busy  thoughts !  but  when  I  play  to-night, 

Richard  the  Third  shall  live  within  my  soul, 

And  from  the  furnace  of  his  blasted  spirit 

I  will  snatch  a  firebrand  to  light  the  world — 

Will  tear  this  darkness  from  my  native  sky 

And  set  the  Southern  Cross  in  glory  there.  v   -. 

SCENE  III — Same — Road  near  Arlington — Enter  Captain  Thorn- 
ton Powell — Cloak  over  Gray  uniform,  supporting  Lilly  Beall 

POWELL. 

Come,  come,  be  brave ;  the  worst  is  over  now ; 
Yon  sail  awaits  us,  and  the  wind  blows  fair — 
See !  see !  the  topmast !  how  its  streamers  wave 

[19] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


And  point  us  to  the  Capitol.    The  guards 

Can  thus  be  flanked,  and  your  brave  brother  saved — 

Once  in  the  city,  we  can  aid  him — 

Madame  Surratt  to  espouse  his  cause, 

And  Booth  to  plead  it  with  the  President — 

Come,  come,  once  more  be  brave ;  be  brave  and  win, 

For  never  yet  could  prison  bar  nor  rib  of  steel 

Withstand  the  pleadings  of  an  angel's  tongue! 

LILLY. 

Alas!  my  poor  brother! — now  in  chains! 
I  feel  that  he  can  never  be  exchanged. 
You  wiser  men  may  little  understand  it, 
But  woman's  heart  is  all  a  prophecy, 
And  what  we  know — is  only  what  we  feel — 
Ah,  no,  we  are  too  powerless  to  save  him. 

Sinks  by  the  road. 

0  so  weary !  frighted  all  night  long, 

And  trembling  more  for  you  than  for  myself, 
My  woman's  heart  grows  faint  and  dies  within  me. 
Thrice  have  you  slain  the  guards,  and  thrice  these  hands, 
Staunching  their  wounds,  took  up  the  dreadful  tale. 

Lifts  up  her  hands  red  with  blood. 

1  cannot  wash  it  off,  lest  to  your  soul 

The  damning  spot  should  fly — for  we  are  one — 

At  least  were  one,  till,  with  an  angry  grasp, 

Unlike  your  own,  you  tore  me  from  those  offices, 

By  pity,  prompted  for  a  dying  foe. 

But  now  we  part,  for  life  is  ebbing  fast, 

And  life  without  you  were  worse  than  death. 

But  take  this  rosary,  press  it  to  your  heart, 

And  when  the  flowers  of  spring  shall  bloom  once  more 

To  hide  these  bloody  hands  from  Heaven,  and  offer 

Sacrifices  for  our  sins :   O  then  remember  me ! 

Go  back  to  camp ;  you  cannot  pass  yon  guard ; 

Go,  Thornton,  fight  the  battles  of  the  South, 

And  leave  me  here  to  die !    Farewell !  farewell ! 

Yet  swear,  before  our  parting — swear  once  more, 

To  love  me  Thornton,  and  to  keep  me  in  your  heart. 

Taking  rosary  and  twining  it  on  his  wrist. 
[20] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


POWELL. 

We'll  have  no  parting  yet ;  but  let  me  swear, 

And  on  a  soldier's  sword   (draws)  and  by  the  stars, 

Dumb  witnesses,  whose  soft  and  dewy  eyes 

Have  looked  through  Southern  bowers  on  our  love 

And  by  yon  mocking-bird,  rehearsing  it 

To  roses,  bent  upon  their  tearful  boughs; 

And  by  the  moon,  whose  silvery  bow  in  Heaven 

Was  snatched  by  Cupid  when  he  made  us  one — 

One  heart — one  soul — one  life,  and  one  Eternity! 

I  swear  to  love  thee;  and  to  save  thy  brother! 

Lilly — Rising. 

Those  words,  like  nectar  poured  into  my  soul, 

Supply  new  strength — now  I  can  go, 

For  gentle  words  to  woman's  heart  are  more 

Than  all  the  pomp  and  glory  of  the  world ! 

Lead  on !  and  I  will  follow  thee, 

Though  tempests  rave  and  torrents  sweep  our  path! 

POWELL,  kissing  her'. 

Remember,  love,  our  new-born  names — 

Yours  Lilly   Boyd— mine  Payne — remember,   Payne! 

For  Beall  and  Powell  would  betray  our  colors. 

Exeunt. 

Voice  behind  the  scenes. 

1st  sentinel. 

Halt!  halt! 

Sentinel  fires — Clash  of  arms — They  fight  back  to  the  stage  and 
around  it — Sentinel  falls 

PAYNE. 

O  that  the  wrongs  and  ruins  of  the  South 

Were  centered  in  this  arm — its  thunderbolt 

That  struck  thee  down,  should  strike  the  North  as  well, 

And  quench,  with  blood,  the  very  fires  of  Hell ! 

Exit. 

[211 


MADAME      SURRATT 


SCENE   IV. — Richmond — Before  the  President's  Mansion — Enter 
soldiers,  and  citizens  serenading. 

1st  citizen. 
That's  Jeff.  Davis'  house.    Come,  let's  give  him  Dixie. 

2d  citizen. 
Let's  call  him  out  and  have  a  speech  first. 

3d  citizen. 
No,  no;  Dixie  first  and  then  the  speech. 

4th  citizen. 

We  want  no  Dixie  now — first  for  the  speech — 
And  if  he  brings  good  news  from  Lee  or  Longstreet, 
Then  we'll  have  Dixie;  but  they  say  that  Petersburg 
Has  fallen — first  make  him  tell  the  news — 
And  then  if  good,  wind  up  with  Dixie — 
But  if  the  news  be  bad,  we'll  shake  him  for  it. 
Damned  if  I  don't  lead  the  crowd  to  make  him  squeal. 

officer. 

Peace!  Peace!  vile  braggart!  you  carpet  bag! 

You  d — d  tobacco  speculator — fool! 

You  wore  a  cockade;  but  never  fired  a  gun. 

And  your  vile  crowd  have  brought  us  to  this  pass. 

Dare  you  to  criticise  and  underrate 

The  foremost  man  of  all  his  time? 

Why,  Yankeedom  and  the  whole  South  once  vied 

To  stamp  him  current  for  the  bank  of  fame ! 

And  you  to  flip  and  ring  his  metal — bah ! 

Were  you  in  Mexico?  at  Monterey? 

At  Buena  Vista?    Where  did  you  enlist? 

Our  forlorn  hope  he  led  at  Monterey. 

I  saw  him  mounting  Fort  Diabolo, 

Throttling  the  cannon — daring  death — 

Our  starry  banner  waving  in  his  hand 

Like  winged  seraphim  defying  war ! 

Begrimed  with  powder  and  besmeared  with  blood, 

He  bore  it  upward — onward — Monterey  was  won! 

"And  there  he  stood,  an  eagle  in  the  sun." 

[22] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


At  Buena  Vista  next  our  cause  seemed  lost — 

Taylor  and  Bragg  were  yielding  to  the  storm : 

When,  fresh  as  condors  from  the  mountain  heights, 

Rushed  down  ten  thousand  lancers  on  our  left. 

There  stood  Jeff.  Davis — Mississippi's  sons 

His  hope  of  victory — lo !  they  seem  to  fly. 

His  center  first  retiring,  till  it  formed 

Into  an  open  V;  but  while  each  branch 

Of  that  dread  letter  on  the  field  of  blood, 

Seemed  to  retreat ;  and  thus  drew  in  the  foe, 

As  flies  into  the  yawning  crocodile ; 

He  halted  suddenly,  and  faced  about; 

His  Mississippi  rifles  blazed  along  each  line; 

And  like  a  bosky  hill,  bathed  in  the  sun, 

Or  mound  mysterious,  rising  in  those  wilds — 

Or  rather  like  a  hill  of  blasted  pines, 

Those  Lancers — and  their  shattered  lances  lay — 

Jeff.  Davis  master  of  the  field ; 

And  glittering  on  the  heights  of  fame ! 

Wild  with  delight,  a  glorious  nation  then 

Her  preferments  and  honors  proffered  him; 

Her  power  supreme  to  hold  the  helm  of  war, 

She  gave  into  his  hands  her  record — his! 

Then  Senator,  he  scorned  and  held  at  bay, 

Like  a  great  mountain,  standing  in  the  sea, 

The  raging  billows  of  fanatic  strife — 

'Til  warning  them  in  vain,  his  hope  had  fled  ; 

And  now,  tho'  battling  'gainst  the  world  in  arms, 

He  leads  the  land  of  Washington  to  war. 

For  four  long  years,  undaunted  and  sublime, 

He  stands — the  brightest  mark  upon  the  cliffs  of  Time! 

Soldiers — Huzza!  Huzza!  Huzza! 
Davis!  Davis!  Davis!  Huzza!  Huzza!  Huzza ! 
Enter  Davis  on  Balcony. 

Fellow  Citizens: — It  always  gives  me  pleasure  to  meet  you,  for 
I  know  your  devotion  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  to  the  sovereignty 
of  States. 

Greece  in  her  palmiest  day  was  a  great  Confederate  government — 
as  such,  she  fought  at  Thermopylae,  Plataea  and  Salamis:  nor  ever 
yielded  to  domestic  or  foreign  tryants,  until  her  sovereign  States 
succumbed    to    Federal    power.      You,    fellow    soldiers    and    fellow 

[23] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


citizens,  are  fighting  for  States'  rights  and  for  State  sovereignty, 
guarded  by  Constitutional  authority.  You  are  fighting  against 
Federal  power,  a  mere  creature  and  servant  of  the  States.  Your 
cause  is  just,  and  millions  of  brave  men  throughout  the  North,  now 
shackled  by  the  grip  of  war,  are  with  you.  They  hold  as  you  do, 
that  no  aggregation  of  States — no  vast  mob  of  many  nations — no 
raging  commune  should  dictate  to  a  free-born  people  and  enslave 
their  sons.  What  though  we  fail  in  battle,  these  brave  men,  in- 
spired by  your  example,  will  yet  sustain  the  cause  for  which  your 
sons  are  bleeding.  Remember  the  real  issue — slavery  was  only  an 
exciting  element,  trumped  up  by  cunning  demagogues  to  lead  the 
mob.  They  know  full  well  that  our  slaves  are  by  far  the  happiest 
peasantry  on  earth — better  in  their  condition  now  than  when  driven 
by  Yankee  masters  from  whom  our  fathers  purchased  them;  and 
this  the  negroes  understand;  they  also  understand  that  their  condi- 
tion is  infinitely  better  than  that  of  many  white  slaves  of  the  North, 
some  of  whose  masters  so  cruelly  oppress  them.  Then  let  U9  keep 
to  the  issue — the  sovereignty  of  States — and  should  our  last  army 
go  down  in  battle,  our  cause  will  still  survive.  The  whole  world, 
now  combined  against  us,  may  conquer  on  the  field.  But  the  brave 
and  true  men  of  the  North,  threatened  by  a  raging  commune,  will 
clamor  for  Constitutional  safeguards,  and  be  compelled  to  call  our 
sons  in  peaceful  armor — or,  if  need  be,  with  the  sword — perhaps 
ourselves — to  fight  for  Constitutional  liberty  and  for  the  rights 
of  man. 

Fellow  citizens  and  fellow  soldiers,  I  bid  you  good  night. 


ALL. 

Huzza!  Huzza!  Huzza! 


Exeunt. 


[24] 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  1. — President's  Mansion — Lincoln  reading  MSS — Music — 
John  Brown  in  the  distance. 

LINCOLN. 

We  want  no  commune  here — want  no  secession  either — 
No  John  Brown  marching  on,  nor  squealing  Dixie; 
Except  it  be  to  play  them  for  a  little  sport — 
Key  was  a  Southern  man  and  born  in  Maryland, 
And  his  "Star-Spangled  Banner"  will  be  played 
With  Hail  Columbia  till  the  day  of  doom. 
For  golden  songs  descending  to  a  nation 
Make  through  all  time  her  best  inheritance; 
And  the  recreant  wretch  who  could  relinquish  them, 
So  dear  to  his  fathers,  whether  North  or  South, 
And  in  a  corner,  like  a  cricket,  chant, 
"John  Brown  is  marching  on,"  or  "Dixie" — 

0  I  have  no  patience  with  such  men ! 

So  when  the  commune  bawl  or  Southern  fool 
Sticks  a  cockade  upon  his  fiery  breast, 

1  know  the  fitful  storm  must  pass  away  ; 
Impartial  men  on  either  side  will  lead 
The  people  and  return  ere  long  to  Union. 
So  let  the  fools  rip,  a  day  is  near  at  hand 
When  reason  can  be  seated  on  her  throne, 
And  this  great  Union,  snatched  from  ruin, 
Our  Stars  and  Stripes  shall  float  along  the  sky 
Wherever  the  sun  shines  or  waters  roll ! 
Secession  is  a  thing  most  foul  and  pitiable, 

A  kind  of  cross-eyed,  ill  contrived,  abortive 
Ben  Butler  in  another  form;  but  uglier — 
A  blot  upon  the  North  as  well  as  the  South — 
A  rope  of  sand  disintegrated  from  the  start — 
The  laughing  stock  and  jest  of  all  mankind ! 
Never  were  sane  men  so  thoroughly  misled 
As  they  who  clamor  for  secession — 
Whether  in  Massachusetts  or  in  Carolina, 
For  Massachusetts  first  conceived  the  monster, 
And  her  grim  legislature  gave  it  birth. 

[25] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Jeff.  Davis  took  it  to  his  arms  and  now 
The  whole  world  trembles  in  its  presence. 
'Tis  but  the  commune  in  another  form — 
States  riding  on  the  storms  of  human  passion — 
Poor  John  Brown  marching  on,  and  nothing  else. 

Enter  a  messenger,  bearing  dispatches.     Lincoln  reads  them. 
Well,  the  Rebellion  drags  along,  and  though 
Its  back  be  broken,  still  its  fiery  fangs 
Are  dangerous  as  ever  and  its  rattling  tail 
Forewarns  that  they  may  "fight  to  the  last  ditch"  ; 
And  fight  they  will  if  driven  to  despair — 
If  we  insist  on  blotting  out  their  States 
And  turning  them  to  provinces — if  soldiers 
Must  be  kept  to  garrison  their  homes; 
And  men  like  Butler  give  those  soldiers  leave 
For  fancied  insults  or  a  scornful  look 
To  make  their  daughters  women  of  the  town, 
By  heavens!  they'll  fight  it  out,  and  I  would,  too. 
Now,  some  would  burn  and  crucify  the  South — 
Beechers  and  Brownlows  and  a  host  of  saints. 
All  preaching  love  to  cut  Confederate  throats. 
But  I  myself  was  born  in  old  Kentucky 
And  have  a  soft  place  in  my  heart  for  her. 
My  dear  old  mother  sleeps  among  her  hills, 
My  father,  too,  all  sleep  in  Old  Virginia, 
And  her  greatest  statesmen  have  been  my  friends, 
But  "by  the  eternal  Gods''  as  Jackson  said, 
"I'd  hang  them  high  as  Haman  to  preserve  this  Union." 
Yet  could  we  make  an  honorable  peace, 
The  South  should  have  protection  and  return 
To  join  us  in  a  great,  regenerated  country. 
Freedom  to  all,  inscribed  upon  our  banner, 
And  in  our  hearts  "forgiveness  for  the  past." 
"Malice  to  none;  but  charity  for  all." 
And  when  this  tempest  shall  have  passed  away, 
The  mystic  chords  of  memory  stretched, 
From  every  soldier's  grave  to  every  heart 
In  this  great  land  shall  swell  the  pean  of  our  victory! 

Exit. 


[26] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


SCENE  II — President's  grounds — Enter  Dr.  Mary  Trotter  in  male 
attire — Beecher  meeting  her. 

DR.   MARY. 

O  Mr.  Beecher!  Mr.  Beecher,  how  fortunate  to 

Meet  you  here.    Come,  now,  introduce  me  to  the  President. 

BEECHER. 


Certainly — He'll  be  here  in  a  moment — 
Doctor,  you  are  looking  remarkably  well — 
See,  there  he  comes! 


Lincoln  approaches. 


BEECHER. 


Allow  me  to  present  you,  Mr.  President, 
Our  great  surgeon,  Dr.  Mary  Trotter. 

LINCOLN. 

Indeed!  I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  Dr.  Mary. 
So  Doctor,  you  cut  soldiers'  legs  off,  Eh?     Ha!  ha!  ha! 
But  don't  you  feel  queer  when  you  cut  a  man?    Ha!  ha!  ha! 
Take  care,  Doctor,  that  you  don't  get  your  own  leg  broke. 
For  then  you'll  have  to  send  for  Beecher. 

DR.    MARY. 

No  need  of  sending,  he'll  be  sure  to  come, 
Like  a  good  pastor — loving  all  his  lambs! 
But,  Mr.  President,  I  came  from  Ford's, 
To  ask  your  Cabinet  to  Booth's  great  play. 
Here  are  the  invitations — ten  in  number. 

Giving   them. 

0  he's  an  angel,  sir — almost  a  God — 

And  all  the  women  of  the  town  are  crazy  for  him. 

LINCOLN. 

1  hope  you  are  not  a  woman  of  the  town. 

DR.   MARY. 

O  yes  I  am,  but  hold  to  woman's  rights. 
[27] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


LINCOLN. 

Take  care  that  you  don't  hold  to  something  else, 

For   Booth   would   make  you   change   your  politics, 

And  if  you  married  him — one  thing  I  know, 

He'd  have  them  breeches  off  and  make  you  wear  a  frock. 

Good  bye!    Good  bye!    Ha!  ha!  ha! 

DR.   MARY. 

No,  sir;  I'll  wear  them  to  the  bitter  end. 

Exit. 
Lincoln — Laughing. 

Beecher,  which  is  her  bitter  end  ? 

BEECHER. 

Perhaps,   your   excellence,   she   means   her   latter   end, 

A  most  important  thing ;  for  all  must  die — 

The  cares  of  State,  the  coronet  and  crown — 

Upheavings  of  a  mighty  land  like  this 

And  of  our  little  bosoms — all  must  sink 

To  rest  and  be  forgotten  in  the  grave. 

Then  "the  true  inwardness"  must  all  come  out. 

To  me,  to  you — and  all  of  us,  that  day 

Approaches  like  a  thief— "nest  hiding"  them — 

Our  loves  and  hates  and  all  our  little  schemes 

Will  leave  us  "on  the  ragged  edge"  of  time — 

Each   in   his   narrow   bed   and   married   to   the   worm! 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  III — Booth's  room  in  Washington — Portraits  on  the  wall 
of  the  Booths,  Beall,  and  Lilly. 

BOOTH. 

Richard  was  a  villain  "of  the  whole  cloth"  ; 

And  sweet  relenting  Nature  never  touched 

A  single  chord  in  his  abandoned  bosom. 

He  slew  alike  the  innocent  and  guilty 

To  make  their  trunks  his  stepping-stones  to  power; 

This  I  was  never  formed  for,  but  by  Heaven, 

As  Curtius  leaped  into  a  gulf,  so  I, 

To  save  my  native  land,  would  plunge 

[28] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Into  the  seething  cauldron  of  a  nation's  wrath — 

Nor  Heaven,  nor  earth,  nor  hell  could  pluck  me  thence ; 

But  ere  one  leaps  into  a  gulf,  perhaps 

'Twere  well  to  write  some  record  on  the  cliff, 

That  they  who  come  hereafter  may  divine 

What  hopes  he  built  upon  and  why  he  fell. 

Writes  letter  to  Clark  and  leaves  it  on  table. 
Yes,  in  the  fiery  tempest  that  must  rise 
Naught  less  than  miracles  could  save  me ; 
Lascivious  Fortune  then,  to  Judas  turned, 
May  crack  upon  my  cheeks;  but  I  will  hurl 
Her  kisses  back  to  meet  their  swords  and  staves, 
And  fall,  at  last,  if  fall  I  must, 
Like  Brutus — not  sustained  by  Senators — 
No!  not  like  Brutus,  with  an  host  of  friends, 
Creeping  behind  the  kisses  of  a  Casca,  no! 
But,  like  Niagara,  all  alone  in  power, 
One  patriot  soul  shall  leap  upon  the  gulf 
And  leave  eternal  rainbows  where  it  plunged! 
Not  sixty  Senators  to  vanquish  Caesar, 
But  one  strong  arm  to  prop  a  falling  cause — 
Like  Brutus  striking  for  the  rights  of  man, 
Perhaps  like  Brutus,  on  the  plains  of  Philippi, 
Weltering  in  blood,  despairing  and  abandoned, 
Traduced  and  scorned  and  hated  for  the  time 
That  Caesar's  armies  parcelled  out  the  world ; 
Yet  living  on  and  honored  by  mankind ; 
So  be't ;  and  when  the  world  forgets  a  Brutus, 
Then,  but  not  till  then,  my  fame  shall  die; 
For  I  will  live  when  yonder  dome  shall  piecemeal  fall, 
When  yonder  trumpets  to  the  judgment  call 
And  ruin  writes  the  epitaph  of  all! 

Enter  Thornton  Powell. 

Why,  Thornton  Powell!     Heavens!  how  came  you  here? 
How  pass  their  lines?    What  news,  my  boy? 

POWELL. 

How  pass  their  lines  ?    I  have  a  ready  tongue, 

Whose  thirsty  edge  {drawing  bloody  sword), lapping theblood  of  dogs 

For  three  contentious  nights,  can  answer  you. 


[29] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Challenged  at  every  turn,  pursued,  hemmed  in, 
And  fighting  inch  by  inch,  this,  my  best  friend, 
Procured  our  passage  hither! 

BOOTH. 

What  from  our  army  ?    What  news,  my  boy  ? 

POWELL. 

My  gray-haired  sire — God !  can  it  be  true  ? 
Pursuit  being  vain,  they  sought  my  father's  house 
And  slew  him,  helpless,  pleading  for  his  life. 
My  sisters  then,  to  save  themselves  from  shame, 
Lucretia's  guiltness  dagger  seized  and  died. 
I  saw  it  not,  yet  see  it  standing  there. 
Yon  blazing  roof,  the  tears  and  blood  that  fell 
Freeze  me  with  horror  while  the  tale  I  tell. 

BOOTH. 

Horrible!  most  horrible!    Oh,  it  was 
A  dark  and  damned,  most  infernal  deed ; 
Yet  they  who  perish  now  are  Fortune's  favorites, 
Nursed  in  a  quiet  cell,  protected,  safe, 
And  mingling  with  the  dust  for  which  they  died. 
Unused  to  fawning,  your  Virginia  blood 
Could  never*  crawl  and  creep  as  things  do  here. 
Better  to  die  and  bid  the  world  farewell, 
To  stride  the  withers  of  some  windy  blast, 
And  ride  through  lightnings  to  the  gate  of  Heaven, 
\Jhan  lick  a  master's  hand  for  place  and  power. 
O  I  do  hate  the  creeping  things  called  men, 
And  most  those  Southern  men  who  skulk  and  cringe. 
The  smell  of  mules  and  negroes  they  delight  in; 
But  powder  scares  them  and  the  villains  crawl. 
Take  comfort,  then — cheer  up — 'twill  all  be  well. 
What  from  our  army  ?    What  from  Lee  ? 
What  of  the  truce  at  City  Point  ? 

POWELL. 

All  overtures  for  peace  have  been  rejected, 
And  our  bleeding  army,  stung  to  their  wounds 
By  base  conditions  offered,  flew  to  arms. 

[30] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


I  fear  that  all  is  over ;  our  base  is  cut, 

And  Sheridan  goes  raiding  in  the  rear; 

Lee  struggles  like  a  storm-tossed  vessel  stranded, 

When  every  billow  sweeps  her  groaning  deck ; 

God  only  knows  how  long  he'll  weather  it! 

BOOTH. 

Then  shall  we  have  another  act  to  play! 

Rome's  Campus  Martius,  with  her  three  conspirators, 

Shall  take  the  stage  in  Washington.    What  think  you  ? 

POWELL. 


You  speak  in  parables.     Speak  out, 

For  I  was  always  blunt — perhaps  too  frank. 

Speak  out  and  show  the  bottom  of  your  mind. 

BOOTH. 

Richard  the  Third  is  on  the  boards  tonight, 
And  you  shall  learn  the  lesson  while  I  play. 

POWELL. 

Impossible,  for  I  return  tonight. 

BOOTH. 

Whither? 

POWELL. 

To  my  command. 

BOOTH. 

Then  wherefore  did  you  come  ? 

POWELL   {pointing  to  Lilly's  picture). 
To  escort  that  lady. 

BOOTH. 

What!  Lilly  Beall?    And  is  she  here? 

POWELL. 

At  Madame  Surratt's,  but  we  have  changed  our  names. 
Remember  to  call  her  Lilly  Boyd.    As  for  me, 
My  name  is  Payne.    Be  sure  to  get  it  right, 
For  should  the  bloodhounds  scent  my  track 
They'd  hang  me  for  a  spy. 

[31] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


BOOTH. 

A  halter  would  then  take  the  place  of  Lilly's  arms. 

0  that  I,  too,  could  have  so  fair  a  gibbet ! 
For  one  less  beautiful  might  soon  be  mine ! 

Say,  why  this  risk  and  wherefore  did  she  come? 

PAYNE. 

Of  course,  you  know  her  brother  has  been  captured  ? 

BOOTH. 

Lieutenant  Beall?     No,  not  a  word;  come,  tell  it  me. 

PAYNE. 

Captured,  beyond  all  doubt,  and  t'  escort  his  sister 

1  come  on  furlough,  but  return  tonight, 
And  you  should  see  her  to  New  York, 
Where  she  expects  to  find  him. 

BOOTH. 

By  Heaven!  he's  dearer  to  this  love-lack  heart 
Than  all  my  kindred — brothers,  sisters — all, 
Except  my  mother  and  my  murdered  friends. 
Captured,  you  tell  me?    Where  and  when? 

PAYNE. 

Some  telegrams  we  sent  will  soon  be  answered, 
And  you  shall  know  tonight  what  prison  holds  him. 
My  time  is  short.    Take  Lilly  to  your  charge ; 
I  have  a  long  and  dangerous  road  before  me. 

Going,  shakes  hands.     Good  night. 

Booth — Holding  Powell  confidingly. 

Stay!  stay! 

When  you  return  to  camp  remember  this, 

And  should  it  happen,  say  "Booth  told  you  so" — 

Mark  well  my  words  and  pin  them  to  your  heart. 

Defeats  are  sometimes  turned  to  victory; 

A  single  arm  can  sometimes  turn  the  tide  of  war. 

Now,  I  am  hatching  up  a  brand-new  play ; 

Be  ready  for  your  part ;  take  Brutus  if  you  like. 

[32] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


POWELL. 

O  that  a  Brutus  could  be  molded  now, 
And,  leaping  from  the  fiery  furnace  of  this  war, 
Bring  curses  down  upon  his  towering  head 
From  hypocrites  and  villains  to  the  end  of  time! 

BOOTH. 

Say,  Powell,  did  you  know  that  Brutus  was  a  coward  ? 

POWELL. 

"He  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all." 

BOOTH. 

Aye,  but  his  gizzard  was  so  thin  of  grit 
That  Cassius  was  required  to  grind  its  purpose, 
Else  had  its  blunted  edge  proved  most  abortive. 
And,  to  speak  truly,  mine  needs  whetting,  too ; 
But  you  could  grind  it,  Powell,  to  such  keenness 
That  it  would  rip  the  very  womb  of  Time 
And  send  great  spirits  thro'  to  Heaven — yea, 
Could  cleave  the  dome  of  yonder  Capitol. 
Come,  tell  me,  Powell,  do  you  see  anything? 
Look  in  my  eye ;  behold  your  image  there. 

Holding  his  hand,  puts  the  other  arm  around  him. 
Perhaps  our  hearts,  now  laid  together  thus, 
And  linked  so  long  in  boyhood's  trustful  love, 
Like  shells  by  tyrant  Neptune  cast  ashore, 
Might  whisper  "Vengeance,"  "Brutus,"  "Cassius,"  "Rome." 

POWELL  {releases  himself). 

Would  God  that  I  were  Cassius  and  could  find 
A  Brutus  bold  enough  to  strike  my  palm ! 

Booth — Striking  palms. 

Soft!  soft!    Now,  should  our  armies  fail,  do  you 
Mount,  as  Virginius  did,  and  ride  to  Rome, 
The  very  valleys  shouting  to  your  horse's  hoofs, 
Virginia's  valleys  shouting  back  to  Heaven, 
"Sic  semper  tyrannis!"     Rome  is  free! 

[33] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


POWELL. 


How  shall  I  read  in  all  this  trash 
The  purpose  of  your  soul.     Speak  out! 


BOOTH. 


What  if  the  President  were  sent  to  Heaven, 
Would  France  and  England  recognize  the  South  ? 

POWELL. 

If  Cerberus  should  meet  me  in  the  way, 

I'd  off  with  both  his  heads,  while  you,  forsooth, 

Would  decollate  but  one,  to  make  the  dog  more  hideous. 

BOOTH. 

No  dread  of  law?    No  qualms  of  conscience,  eh? 

POWELL. 

Conscience  and  law?    Yes,  these  shall  point  the  way, 

As  taught  us  by  the  statesmen  of  our  day. 

"A  higher  law"  has  lately  been  proclaimed 

As  better  far  than  what  our  fathers  framed ; 

Seward  proclaimed  it ;  Lincoln  holds  it  good, 

To  fill  the  world  with  misery  and  blood. 

"That  higher  law"  deprived  us  of  the  slaves 

Our  fathers  purchased  from  the  canting  knaves, 

Because,  forsooth,  we  would  not  wear  the  chain 

Of  tariffs  levied  only  for  their  gain. 

They  crushed  State  rights  to  make  that  claim  secure ; 

Then  gave  to  Federal  power  what  States  possessed  before, 

And  having  numbers — vandals  from  afar — 

"Cried  havoc  and  let  slip  the  dogs  of  war." 

Down  came  their  armies,  and  the  fiends  accursed 

Our  homes  invaded  with  infernal  lust. 

From  blazing  roofs  our  helpless  women  driven 

Made  suicide  their  last  appeal  to  Heaven, 

Imploring  God,  yet  tearing  wide  their  wounds, 

At  sight  of  which  o'er  sickened  nature  swoons. 

All  this  and  more  the  conscience  justifies, 

If  we  may  trust  their  sniveling  and  their  lies. 

That  "higher  law/'  a  mask  for  crime, 

[34] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


To  suit  the  pious  knavery  of  our  time. 
Command  me,  then,  and  if  our  armies  fail, 
That  higher  law  shall  over  might  prevail. 
Prepare  your  play  and  put  me  in  the  cast, 
For  I  will  fight  and  fight  them  to  the  last. 

BOOTH. 


Exit. 


His  heart  was  gentle  as  his  love  for  Lilly, 

Ere  this  unnatural  war  had  tongued  its  wounds ; 

And  yet  to  the  tiger's  fierceness  could  it  rise 

When  o'er  topping  insolence  presumed  too  far. 

I  well  remember  how  he  struck  a  giant  once 

For  giving  insults  to  a  helpless  woman ; 

First  with  his  hand ;  but,  drawing  then  his  sword, 

He  clove  the  villain  to  his  buttocks. 

With  three  such  men,  knit  firmly  to  my  soul, 

This  drama  could  be  played ;  but  without  such 

'Twould  drag  upon  the  stage  and  prove  abortive ; 

Yet  every  actor  cannot  be  a  star, 

And  I  must  cast  this  piece  for  humbler  stock. 

Knocks. 
Enter  Herold,  dressed  gaily  with  flowers. 

HEROLD. 

They  say  that  we  are  wondrously  alike. 
"Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent 
Made  glorious  summer  by  the  Son  of  York." 

BOOTH. 

Come,  butterfly,  if  I  should  blow  a  candle  out, 
Could  you  blow  out  another? 
Tell  Atzerot  to  come  in  here. 


Exit  Herold. 


This  shallow  boy  will  ape  me  to  the  last ; 
And,  like  the  monkey,  shaving  as  his  master, 
The  poor  thing  ere  long  may  vent  his  windpipe. 
Vain  of  my  friendship,  he  would  die  to  serve  me, 
While  Atzerot,  for  money,  would  encounter  hell ; 
And  yet  I  scarcely  fancy  thus  with  murderers 
To  conspire.    What  is  conscience  after  all? 

[35] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Perhaps  the  ghost  of  early  training  throws 

Its  shadow  on  the  path  of  desperate  deeds, 

Or  creeps  behind  to  hold  the  elbow  back. 

O  coward  conscience,  trembling  at  a  nightmare! 

Poor  spaniel,  pawing  at  thy  master's  door! 

Vile  shadow  cast  by  some  obtrusive  light — 

Ah,  yes,  a  light !  and  that  is  what  we  dread — 

A  light  more  piercing  than  th'  unpupiled  eye 

Of  day — burning  like  phosphorus  in  bones — 

Unseen  and  covered  by  the  womb  of  darkness, 

Yet  giving  keenness  to  the  stings  of  memory, 

And  penetrating  every  chamber  of  the  soul. 

Let  him  who  boasts  his  freedom  bawl  with  fools ; 

But  all  of  us  are  slaves  and  cowards  from  the  start! 

Enter  Herold  and  Atzerot — Booth  abstracted. 

ATZEROT. 

Veil,  Master  Booth,  vy  did  you  send  for  me  ? 

BOOTH. 

Not  now,  not  now,  eh ;  some  other  time  will  do. 
For  I,  eh,  am  going ;  but  both  of  you,  eh,  remember, 
I'll  need  your  services  some  other  time — 
Yours,  Atzerot,  for  money;  Herold,  yours 
For  love.     Both  meet  me  here  tomorrow  night. 

ATZEROT. 

Veil,  de  best  time  for  anyting  is  now. 

BOOTH. 

No,  no ;  not  now ;  some  other  time ;  some  other  time. 

ATZEROT. 


Veil,  shentlemens,  mit  money  you  can  buy  me, 
For  I  can  cut  dem  throats  as  good  as  any  man. 

BOOTH. 

Why  do  you  speak  of  cutting  throats? 

HEROLD. 

He  takes  us  both  for  murderers. 

[36] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


ATZEROT. 

Yes,  shentlemens,  I  listened  mit  de  keyhole 
Ven  you  and  Payne  vas  fightin'  fur  de  last. 
Mine  Got,  I  knows  it  all — give  me  de  monish ; 
Tells  me  vat  fur  do — gives  me  de  knife, 
An'  tells  me  who,  fur  dead  mens  tells  no  tales! 

BOOTH. 

Begone,  base  cutthroat.    Go!  begone!  begone! 

O,  how  the  villain  freezes  up  my  blood. 
ATZEROT  {going). 

Veil,  you  sent  fur  me,  and  I  can  go; 
But  if  I  tells  de  policeman,  vat  fur  den  ? 
And  Dr.  Mary  Trotter — vat  for  her? 
She  listens  mit  de  keyhole,  too — ha!  ha! 
Vat  if  she  tell  de  President!  vot  den! 
Some  tings,  you  bet,  I  don't  likes  pretty  well. 

BOOTH. 


Aside. 


Going. 


Stay,  stay ;  my  blood  was  frozen  by  your  villainy ; 
But  meet  me  in  the  green  room  when  the  play 
Shall  warm  it.    Then  will  I  cast  your  several  parts. 

Exit  H.  and  A. 
As  they  go  out  John  Brown  rises  with  serpents  over  Booth's 
head. 

Booth  looking  at  his  watch. 
'Tis  just  an  hour  ere  the  play  begins; 
But  Richard  shall  be  aped  as  ne'er  before  on  earth, 
For  I  will  fit  the  deep  intents  of  his  dark  soul 
So  nicely  to  mine  own  that  all  shall  cry, 
"  'Tis  he!  'tis  he!"     My  father's  ghost  once  more 
Shall  put  the  buskin  on ;  his  father's,  too. 
Shall  stride  the  stage  and  fill  my  soul 
With  all  the  fiery  vengeance  of  our  race. 

Enter  Dr.  Mary   Trotter. 
What,  again  obtruding!    Woman,  go,  go! 
Take  back  your  letter,  with  its  sickening  vows, 
Its  baby,  puking  of  immodest  love. 

[37] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Reads  aside. 
Aside,  reads. 

To  Booth. 


DR.  MARY  {snatching  it). 

Then  give  it  me,  and  learn  that  woman's  wrath 
Hath  tenfold  fury  for  her  love. 

Mary  E.  Surratt,  aha! — a  pretty  thing  to  love! 

Remember  your  promise  to  write  or  come  early ; 
John  will  be  off  to  Richmond  in  the  morning. 
Aha!     From  home.     The  widow  there? 

And  you  to  spurn  me  for  a  wrinkled  hag! 

The  strumpet;  I'll  tear  her  very  eyes  out; 

The  Rebel  wench;  I'll  hang  her  on  a  gibbet, 

And  you  shall  dangle  by  your  lady  love. 

The  hag!    I'll  give  you  both  a  swinging  hammock 

For  your  marriage  bed.     I'll — I'll 

BOOTH. 

I  cannot  bear  your  costume,  and  your  face 
Pecks  like  a  hawk  into  my  very  soul. 
Whether  man  or  woman,  whate'er  thou  art, 
Monster,  I  cannot  brook  your  presence — go! 

DR.  MARY. 

Now  mark  me,  traitor,  I  will  have  your  heart. 

Since  beauty  cannot  win  it,  fury  can  ; 

For  I  will  clutch  it  in  these  polycarpal  bones 

And  hurl  it  down  and  stamp  it  in  the  dust, 

Or  snatch  it  on  my  cane  and  swing  it  high, 

Then  will  I  hang  it  in  the  market  place, 

To  be  pecked  at  by  hawks  and  vultures  tamed 

To  loyal  citizens,  since  men  have  turned  to  beasts. 

Go,  traitor ;  scheme  with  Atzerot  and  Payne ; 

But  I  will  put  detectives  on  your  track. 

Ha!  ha!    I'll  have  your  heart — ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

And  hers — her  eyes,  her  heart,  her  neck,  with  yours. 

Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha! 

Exit. 

[38  1 


MADAME      SURRATT 


BOOTH. 

Poor  double-sexed  and  most  unnatural  thing — 

Essence  of  Yankee  impudence  and  guile ; 

I'll  play  my  part  so  boldly  and  with  art 

So  like  to  Tarquin  Brutus  that  your  charge 

Shall  fly  to  chaff.    A  pretty  thing  to  love ! 

Crow-footed  Time  now  clawing  at  her  temples; 

The  shadow  of  his  wing  upon  her  cheek, 

And  his  black  beak  bent  down  between  her  eyes — 

That  forked  costume,  too.     O  hideous! 

But  I  am  wasting  gaslight  on  too  poor  a  thing. 

Turns  off  the  gas. 
Richard  now  waits  to  don  me  with  his  hump, 
To  breathe  His  fiery  vengeance  in  my  soul, 
And  I  will  lead  his  ghastly  crowd  to  crimes 
Unaudited  in  these  most  Christian  times; 
When  tyrants,  in  the  gorgan  mask  of  law, 
Our  kindred  slay,  to  hold  the  world  in  awe, 
We,  too,  without  a  mask,  on  Freedom's  heights 
Will  strike  them  down  and  perish  with  our  rights! 

Exit  Booth. 

SCENE  IV — Booth's  room — Beall's  and  Lilly's  portraits  on  tht 
wall — Enter  Conger  and  Baker,  detectives. 

BAKER. 

Are  you  quite  sure  that  this  is  his  room  ? 

CONGER. 

No,  not  sure. 

BAKER. 

Well,  I  am  sure  of  one  thing. 

CONGER. 

What's  that  ? 

BAKER. 


Why,  that  we  detectives  might  be  shot 
As  well  as  other  men. 

[39] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


CONGER. 
And  Booth  is  a  dead  shot  with  a  pistol. 

BAKER. 

Let's  be  sure;  strike  a  light. 

CONGER. 

Oh,  no  danger;  his  play  won't  be  out  for  two  hours  yet.  He 
plays  Richard  the  Third  tonight,  and  that's  a  long  play.  Be- 
sides, Dr.  Mary  brought  us  to  the  door,  and  of  course  she  knows 
his  room.  Striking  a  light. 

Yes,  no  mistake;  this  is  it. 

BAKER. 

How  do  you  know? 

CONGER. 

That's  his  picture  there,  and  there's  the  picture  of  Lieutenant 
Beall,  and  that's  Beall's  sister,  the  girl  we  saw  at  Madame  Sur- 
ratt's.     Now,  be  quick ;  this  is  his  room ;  let's  go  through  it. 

Pulling  open  the  table  drawer. 

BAKER. 

Hold  on ;  these  pictures  might  give  some  clue.  Tell  me  again, 
who  is  this  Beall? 

CONGER. 

Why,  he's  the  fellow  they  captured  raiding  on  St.  Albans,  a 
captain  of  artillery,  first  with  Stonewall  Jackson,  now  a  lieuten- 
ant in  the  Confederate  Navy. 

BAKER. 

Lieutenant  Beall,  you  say  ?    The  same  our  dispatches  spoke  of  ? 

CONGER. 

The  very  same — condemned  to  be  shot  or  hanged  next  Friday ; 
that's  his  sister ;  both  infernal  rebels. 

BAKER. 

But  tell  me,  what  of  this  Booth  ? 

[40] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


CONGER. 
Why,  he's  the  great  actor. 

BAKER. 

Fool!     I  know  that;  but  what  about  his  antecedents.     You 
can't  shadow  a  man  properly  till  you  know  all  about  him. 

CONGER. 

His  forefathers  for  generations  past 

Have  been  the  greatest  actors  on  the  stage. 

Descended  from  the  Jews,  they  still  inherit 

Those  gifts  of  genius,  energy,  and  thrift 

Which  make  Judea's  name  a  proverb  thro'  the  world ; 

And  notwithstanding  England's  cruel  prejudice, 

She  cradles  them  in  old  Westminster  Abbey. 

His  father  was  a  wonder  on  the  stage, 

And  J.  Wilkes  Booth  inherits  all  his  genius. 

BAKER. 

What  kin  is  he  to  Edwin  Booth  ? 

CONGER. 

I'll  take  that  back,  for  Edwin  is  his  brother, 
And  both  are  stars  of  the  first  magnitude, 
The  glory  of  our  stage. 

BAKER. 

Oh,  I  know  Edwin  Booth  and  he  knows  me, 
But  I  always  took  him  for  an  Englishman. 

CONGER. 

No,  not  he ;  they're  all  to  the  manor  born, 

All  born  in  Maryland.    Their  mother  still 

Presides  in  the  old  homestead,  and  they  have 

Sisters,  and  another  brilliant  brother,  named — 

I  think  his  name  is  Junius  Brutus  Booth — 

And  on  their  mother's  side  they  claim  affinities 

With  General  Lee — the  Powells,  Bealls,  and  Madisons — 

All  families  of  great  note  in  old  Virginia. 

But  Edwin  is  a  Union  man. 

[41] 


MADAME       S  U  R  R  A  T  T 


BAKER. 

Now  I  see  it  all — be  quick. 
Let's  go  through  the  papers. 

They  rummage  in  drawers  and  scatter  letters  on  floor — Baker 
at  bureau  and  Conger  reads  letters  at  table. 

BAKER. 

Here  are  a  thousand  letters  from  the  women. 

CONGER. 

Yes,  they  are  all  crazy  for  him — ha!  ha!  ha! 
Hear  this.     Ha!  ha!  ha!  ha!  (Reads.) 
"I  have  read  of  gods  in  history,  but  never 
Saw  one  till  you  played  last  night."    Ha!  ha!  ha! 
"Let  me  but  bow  down  and  kiss  your  footprints. 
They  make  the  very  ground  burn  with  glory. 
Then  spurn  me,  if  you  can.     This  will  be  my  last  letter.     If 
you  should  not  answer  it  I  will  call  at  your  hotel  this  evening  to 
demand  it." 
Ha!  ha!  ha! 

BAKER. 

Reading  letter  left  on  table  during  Conger  s  reading. 
I  knew  it!    Hell's  to  pay! 

Reads:  "To  J.  S.  Clark,  theatrical  manager,  Philadelphia" 

CONGER. 

Clark  is  his  brother-in-law. 

baker  (reads). 

"Dear  Clark,  our  once  bright  stripes  lock  like  bloody  gashes 
on  the  face  of  Heaven." 

CONGER. 

That  sounds  like  craziness. 

BAKER  (reading  on). 

"I  know  how  foolish  I  shall  be  deemed  for  taking  such  a  step 
as  this,  where  on  one  side  I  have  many  friends  and  everything  to 
make  me  happy,  where  my  profession  alone  has  gained  me  an  in- 

[42] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


come  of  more  than  $20,000  a  year,  and  where  my  great  personal 
ambition  in  my  profession  has  such  a  great  field  for  labor.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  South  has  never  bestowed  upon  me  one  kind 
word — a  place  where  now  I  have  no  friends  except  beneath  the 
sod — a  place  where  I  must  either  become  a  private  soldier  or  a 
beggar.  To  give  up  all  the  former  for  the  latter,  besides  my 
mother  and  sisters,  whom  I  love  so  dearly  (although  they  differ 
from  me  so  widely  in  opinion),  seems  insane;  but  God  is  my 
judge.  Right  or  wrong,  God  judge  me,  not  man ;  for,  be  my 
motive  good  or  bad,  of  one  thing  I  am  sure,  the  lasting  condemna- 
tion of  the  North.  I  love  peace  more  than  life;  have  loved  the 
Union  beyond  expression.  For  four  years  have  I  waited,  hoped, 
prayed  for  the  dark  clouds  to  break  and  for  a  restoration  of 
our  former  sunshine.  To  wait  longer  would  be  a  crime.  All 
hope  for  peace  is  dead.  My  prayers  has  proved  as  idle  as  my 
hopes.  God's  will  be  done.  I  go  to  see  and  share  the  bitter 
end."  * 

CONGER. 

You  can't  make  anything  out  of  that. 

BAKER. 

I  can't,  eh? 

CONGER. 

No,  he  talks  the  same  way  to  Lincoln  himself. 

BAKER. 

Then  Lincoln's  a  fool,  that's  all. 

Exeunt. 
Enter  Miss  Agnes  Booth. 

AG.  BOOTH. 

Alas!  this  news  falls  heavily.  My  brother 
Almost  sank  beneath  it ;  and  Lilly  Beall — 
Poor  child!  her  moaning  haunts  me  still. 

Enter  Edwin  Booth. 
Edwin,  Edwin,  where  is  Wilkie? 


♦This  letter  is  preserved  in  Townsend's  letters  to  the  New  York  Sun. 

[43] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


E.  BOOTH. 

Not  yet  returned? 

AG.  BOOTH. 

Not  yet,  Edwin ;  have  you  seen  him  since  ? 

E.  BOOTH. 

Only  a  moment,  when  he  rushed  out  from  the  stage. 

This  acting  Richard  always  makes  him  mad — 

More  reckless  than  father  when  he  played  his  Brutus; 

But  I  never  saw  him  half  so  wild  before. 

And  then,  to  make  the  matter  worse,  that  news 

From  poor  Lieutenant  Beall  afflicts  him  sorely. 

You  must  to  bed,  Agnes;  I  shall  find  him  soon. 

Exeunt. 
(Same  scene — Booth's  room — Enter   Wilkes  Booth — Glances 
at  letters  on  the  floor). 

w.  BOOTH. 

Well,  the  play  is  ended,  and  ended  well. 

Richard  no  longer  now  affects  the  stage, 

And  vanished  like  a  dream  are  all  his  actors  ; 

Yet  still  on  many  a  weary  couch,  where  sleep 

Begets  fantastic  images  more  real, 

They  play  the  king,  and  those  unhappy  children — 

Their  auditors,  whose  just  applause  inspired, 

Gone  with  them  to  mysterious  and  oblivious  realms. 

Now  play  unconsciously  their  several  parts — 

Mere  mimicry  of  that  eternal  sleep. 

When  the  great  closing  scenes  shall  be  adjusted 

And  the  last  curtain  falls! 

O  that  I,  too,  could  sleep!     But  I  cannot. 

Thou,  Lieutenant  Beall,  condemned  to  die, 

Thou  cans't  not  sleep,  and  why  should  I ! 

But  the  current  of  war  must  have  its  course, 

And  we  poor  pismires  can  only  peep  up 

At  the  spurs  of  our  booted  and  brave  masters. 

They  call  it  liberty,  and  yet  invade 

All  that  is  sacred  in  the  rights  of  man. 

Home  is  no  longer  private,  and  even  love's  whispers 

[44] 


MADAME       S  U  R  R  A  T  T 


Are  blown  through  trumpets  to  the  giggling  crowd. 

'Tis  not  the  people  of  that  mighty  nation 

For  whom  our  fathers  took  Cornwallis'  sword, 

On  old  Virginia's  soil,  and  paid  her  blood. 

No,  the  people  are  ever  friends  to  liberty ; 

But  base  politicians,  both  North  and  South, 

Have  driven  us  to  this  verge  of  ruin. 

Black  weeds  of  mourning  darken  all  the  land ; 

Millions  of  orphans,  wailing  thro'  the  night, 

Ask  for  their  fathers,  to  be  answered  by  a  tear ; 

And  other  millions,  born  to  purple,  now 

To  poverty  reduced,  shiver  with  cold, 

While  low-born  insolence  rides  over  them. 

O  my  country!  land  of  the  free,  farewell! 

And  thou,  my  Maryland,  O  my  Maryland! 

Thy  hearthstones  shattered  and  thy  children  slain, 

Farewell ! 

Turning  to  BealVs  picture. 
'Twas  a  fond  impulse  to  return  to  thee, 
Poor  shadow  of  a  thousand  manly  virtues ! 
Who  would  not  stand  abashed  before  such  majesty! 
And  all  the  more  in  this  room,  with  its  memories. 
Aye,  this  chamber,  graceless  as  that  garden 
Where  the  vile  serpent  coiled  our  mother  Eve 
And  slimed  those  flowers  fresh  from  God's  own  hand ; 
This  chamber,  shiftless  as  a  country  stage, 
Where  revelers  drank  down  the  beaded  hours, 
Sparkling  for  better  purposes,  and  where 
Bright  eyes  and  swimming  forms,  like  th'  unfrocked  wind, 
Unheralded  and  unattended,  came  and  went. 
O  Conscience,  Conscience,  would  that  I  could  slay  thee! 
O  for  some  talisman  to  conjure  back 
Thy  clattering  horses,  unrelenting  Time! 

Enter  young  girl  richly  attired. 
What,  so  young,  so  fair,  so  beautiful ! 
Perhaps  high-born  and  to  some  mother  tied 
By  sunbeams  twisted  from  a  father's  brow. 
Poor  child!  are  these  thy  letters?    Take  them  back. 

Gives  letters. 
Go,  go !    Go  to  some  cloister,  child,  and  wed, 
With  your  imagination,  Heaven's  sweet  Prince, 


[45] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Not  Richard ;  he's  an  arrant  rake,  a  murderer. 

Go  throw  thyself  upon  that  mother's  heart  again 

And  suck  once  more  the  flowers  of  Paradise ; 

But  fly  those  painted  men  you  see  upon  the  stage. 

We  are  not  formed  to  love  as  angels  love. 

I  have  a  sister,  too — a  mother — go,  go! 

Me  thought  those  letters  came  from  some  enthusiast, 

Tutored  in  the  world's  arts  and  fit  for  me ; 

But  now  I  quake  to  find  thee  on  that  crater; 

Fly !  or  hell  will  suck  thy  childish  feet. 

Exit  girl. 

Turning  to  Beall's  picture. 
O  my  brave  friend!     From  thee  I  learned  such  lessons 
As  high-born  souls  and  chivalry  impart. 

Turning  to  Lilly's  picture. 
And  thou,  sweet  angel,  shining  on  my  soul, 
As  lillies  that  cup  up  the  riplets  of  the  lake, 
To  shed  their  sweetness  o'er  its  garnished  waters, 
So  thou  did'st  drink  some  surface  of  my  better  self, 
Unconscious  of  the  horrid  depths  that  lie  beneath ! 
O  I  must  fly  this  chamber  with  its  memories. 
I'll  seek  again  the  midnight  stage, 
Which  suits  the  purpose  of  my  darkened  soul — 
The  midnight  stage !    So  like  to  death  itself ! 
Perhaps  my  murdered  friends  might  meet  me  there ; 
And  other  spirits,  cutting  through  the  curtain, 
May  gleam  upon  me,  like  ten  thousand  swords. 
Why  not?    They  walked  from  Paradise  to  Calvary! 
All  ages,  all  great  intellects,  beheld  them. 
Even  Socrates,  earth's  prime  philosopher, 
Had  a  familiar  spirit,  tho'  fools  laughed. 
So  hucksters  in  Jerusalem  and  Athens 
Giggled  in  the  temples  as  now  they  do. 
Devils  have  made  assaults  on  human  souls 
And  shaped  themselves  to  every  form — 
From  writhing  serpent  up  to  man's  estate. 
Angels  in  Gethsemane,  'tis  said, 

Appeared  to  Christ  and  bore  a  cup  to  strengthen  him. 
The  Devil,  too,  once  hurled  him  high  in  air 
And  placed  him  on  a  pinnacle  of  God's  great  Temple ; 
Thence  to  a  lofty  mountain,  and  arrayed 


46] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Before  him  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world ! 

Was  every  age  made  up  of  knaves  and  villains  ? 

Or  is  our  little  span  the  only  one, 

Unworthy  visits  from  th'  unseen  world  ? 

Or  are  we  such  peddlers  and  base  shopkeepers 

That,  like  the  meaner  sort  of  olden  time, 

We  see  no  spirits — our  noses  stuck  in  samples. 

No,  no ;  mere  hucksters  never  saw  the  stars, 

Much  less  th'  invisible  host  which  they  portend. 

Stars  are  but  shadows  cast  by  spirits  close  to  God  ; 

And  such  are  serpents,  too,  by  devils  formed. 

Ah !  yes,  great  goblins  of  the  ancient  globe 

Do  walk  about  this  world,  and  I  will  meet  them 

On  that  same  stage  where  Richard  fell  tonight. 

Thither  my  steps!  and  you,  yet  spirits  impalpable, 

Scorned  by  the  vulgar,  known  to  lofty  souls, 

Ye  ghosts  angelic,  pure  and  sanctified, 

And  you,  ye  devils,  visible  in  darkness, 

Rise  at  my  bidding,  follow  to  the  midnight  stage! 

Exit. 
Enter  John  Brown's  ghost. 

JOHN   BROWN. 

Aye!  follow  the  we  will — to  hell  begone, 

And  tell  them  there,  "John  Brown  is  marching  on." 

Exit. 

SCENE  V — Scene  in  street,  by  gaslight — Conger  and  Baker  in 
dum  show — Dr.  Mary  explaining  a  letter. 

BAKER. 

i  see  nothing  in  that  letter — nothing. 

Madame  Surratt  could  surely  ask  a  friend 

To  visit  her ;  and  what  more  could  you  make  of  it  ? 

DR.  MARY. 

True  the  letter,  taken  by  itself,  is  nothing; 
But,  like  the  occipital  and  ginglymus  bones, 
It  links  together  high  and  lower  parts. 
You  shadow  Booth  and  leave  his  friends  to  me. 

[47] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Herold  and  Atzerot  have  rooms  adjoining  his, 
And  I'll  consult  the  keyhole  for  their  secrets, 
Till  the  vile  plot  comes  to  view. 

BAKER. 

Good !  good !    Eavesdrop  the  villains  while  they  drink, 
But  when  they  bubble  over,  note  it  down. 

DR.  MARY. 


O  Captain,  I've  a  glorious  mission  now; 
Leave  all  to  me;  I'll  send  them  up  some  beer, 
And  never  plummet  sank  into  the  sea 
As  I  will  plunge  into  their  seething  souls. 

BAKER. 

A  good  beginning!  but  the  fox  must  wait, 
Often  to  watch  his  chickens  at  the  gate. 
Keep  to  your  post  and  make  that  keyhole  hear 
The  very  whispers  of  their  foaming  beer. 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  VI — Atzerot  and  Herold  drinking — Atzerot's  room. 

ATZEROT. 

Now,  dot  is  de  best  beer  you  ever  drinks. 
Dot's  no  bottled  beer,  but  fries  from  de  keg. 
Beer,  you  see,  he  gits  flat  no  time  atol — 
De  gas  all  fly  away ! 

HEROLD. 

Then  drink  before  it  flies. 
I'm  tight  already;  but  you're  a  fine  fellow, 
And  I'll  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you. 
I'll  even  drink  your  beer. 

Enter  Dr.  Mary  Trotter. 

HEROLD. 

Why,  Dr.  Mary,  as  I  live!    Come,  come, 
You  spinster  bottle,  let  me  fill  you  up ! 

[48] 


MADAME      SURRA  T  T 


DR.  MARY. 

I  hate  you  men,  your  whiskey  and  tobacco; 
But  diagnosis  argues  each  necessity; 
And  my  diaphragm  demands  some  beer. 

HEROLD. 

The  world  demands  that  you  shall  have  a  bier. 

DR.  MARY. 

Give  me  a  drink.     (Drinks.) 

My  pleura  argues  pleurisy, 

And  my  pneuma  indicates  pneumonia. 

Have  you  read  my  book  on  bulls  and  horses  yet  ? 

It  maps  the  conjugations  of  you  men. 

HEROLD. 

I  never  read  such  books ;  they  shock  my  piety. 
Come,  drink  again,  you  wormy  shrimp; 
There's  nothing  like  good  lager  for  the  bots. 


You  bottle-fly,  with  wings  upon  your  hips! 
No  mouth  but  this  would  ever  touch  your  lips. 


Offering  bottle. 


DR.  MARY. 


If  bottle-flies  delight  in  carrion,  I 

Should  drink  with  you  whenever  I  am  dry. 


HEROLD. 


You  centipede,  you  little  rattlesnake! 

You  pitchfork !    Do  you  take  me  for  a  rake  ? 


DR.  MARY. 


If  snakes  have  rattles  in  their  tails — egad ! 
Your  rattles  all  are  in  your  head. 
If  I  am  forked,  so  are  other  folk; 
Then  where's  the  marrow  of  your  joke? 


HEROLD. 


You  forked  thing !     Not  see  it !    Why, 
When  meadows  kiss  the  dusky  sky, 

[49] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Pitchforks  and  rakes  together  lie. 

She  boxes  him  and  dances  out,  singing  "Shoo,  Fly.J 
Well,  now,  to  business.    Where  is  Johnson's  room? 

ATZEROT. 

Just  under  us,  and  mit  de  shootin' — 
I  drops  de  pistol  here,  den  runs  away. 

Uncovers  hole  in  the  floor. 

HEROLD 

Great  God !  there's  Johnson  in  his  bed ! 

ATZEROT. 

Ya;  he'sh  been  drunk  all  day — last  night. 

Listens  and  takes  broom. 
Sh!  sh!  sh! 

Vot  if  she  listen  mit  de  keyhole  now! 
Sh!  sh!  sh!    Vait!  vait! 

Slips  to  the  door  and  opens  suddenly — In  falls  Dr.  Alary. 
Mine  Got !    Vot  am  dot  ?    Vot  is  it  ? 
Murder!     Murder!    Vot  is  it? 

Beats  Dr.  Mary  with  a  broom. 


[50] 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I — Theater — Enter  John  Brown  s  ghost  and  devils 
with  snakes. 

JOHN   BROWN. 

He  bade  us  follow  to  the  midnight  stage, 
And  doing  our  own  will,  we  humor  his. 
When  first  I  crept  into  his  soul  at  Arlington 
He  trembled  like  an  aspen,  and  conceived 
The  poison  which  I  smeared  upon  his  liver, 
Pregnant  now  with  raw  heads  and  bloody  bones; 
But  as  I  urge  him  onward  to  the  deed 
His  soul  recoils  and  plunges  to  and  fro, 
Like  waters  dashing  to  Ontario, 
Just  ere  they  reach  Niagara's  rock, 
To  clear  it  with  an  earthquake  shock ! 
See!  see!  he  comes!  ye  waters  boil, 
And  Hell's  red  serpents  round  him  coil. 

Enter  Booth. 

BOOTH. 

Their  costumes  all  in  base  confusion, 

Like  leaves  of  autumn,  scattered  here  and  there, 

Proclaim  the  last  act  finished  and  the  players  gone. 

So  we  who  wear  our  bodies  for  the  cast 

Must  soon  sling  them  down  or  hang  them  up — 

An  ugly  thought !  and  yet  a  welcome  one ; 

For  every  actor,  whether  great  or  small, 

Whether  on  this  stage  or  the  big  world, 

Contaminated  by  its  loathsome  fumes, 

Bemoans  some  secret  ill  and  sighs  for  rest. 

O  that  I,  too,  could  fly  this  Ashless  brook 

And  meet  on  yonder  green,  celestial  hill 

My  kindred  and  friends  of  youth. 

Alas!  how  changed  at  midnight  is  the  stage! 

Its  music,  actors,  beauty,  gone  so  soon — 

In  one  short  hour!    Ah,  yes;  the  stage  is  sad 

When  those  we  played  with  have  all  gone  to  rest ! 

John  Brown  holds  a  serpent  over  him. 

[51] 


SVOHU-NO* 


MADAME       SURRATT 


God !  can  I  stand  it  ?    My  brain  reels ! 
They  will  not,  shall  not,  shoot  Lieutenant  Beall ! 
My  very  heartstrings  burst  and  my  mind  wanders! 
'Twill  make  me  mad.    They  dare  not  shoot  him! 
Perhaps  a  song  might  soothe  me.    I'll  try  it.     (Sings:) 
"I  feel  like  one  who  treads  alone 

Some  banquet  hall  deserted, 
Whose  lights  are  gone,  whose  guests  are  flown, 

And  all  but  me  departed." 
No,  it  soothes  me  not.    O  for  some  sweet  minstrel ! 
Could  Lilly  but  be  here  with  her  sad  harp, 
The  same  she  struck  in  yonder  happy  home, 
For  her  brave  brother,  doomed  to  die  so  soon. 
Could  she  but  bring  that  wilderness  of  song, 
This  evil  spirit  instantly  would  fly, 
As  Merodach  from  Saul  when  David  played. 

JOHN  brown  (aside). 

Tell  Merodach  to  come  in  here.     (Laughs.) 

Booth  holds  his  head,  as  in  agony,  sitting. 

BOOTH. 

'Twere  better  far  to  spare  the  poor  fool's  life ; 

For,  after  all,  he's  not  the  worst  of  men. 

In  sooth,  he's  a  good  man  and  has  a  kind  heart ; 

But  good  is  as  good  doth ;  and  not  doing  well 

Gives  the  lie  to  simulation  and  punches 

In  its  teeth.    I'll  try  his  goodness  for  a  pardon, 

And  if  he  leave  Lieutenant  Beall  to  perish 

This  dagger  then  shall  probe  his  rottenness 

And  let  its  filth  flow,  to  knock  men's  noses  up, 

Tho'  all  the  hypocrites  from  Hell  shout  murder ! 

Exit. 

BROWN. 

Still,  on  the  dreadful  brink,  his  soul 

Recoils — too  cowardly  to  plunge; 

Next  he'll  be  praying;  then  farewell 

To  all  my  conjurations.    See,  he  comes  again. 

Enter  Merodach — A  serpent  with  babboons  head. 
Go,  Merodach,  and  climb  to  his  imagination — 

[52] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Climb  to  its  very  heights — and  coil  about  it, 
Lashing  with  fiery  tail  each  lofty  peak, 
And  from  its  pinnacles  spit  fire  to  heaven. 


Enter  Booth. 


BOOTH. 


I'll  try  another  song,  from  poor  Tom  Moore.     (Sings.) 
"When  true  hearts  lie  withered 

And  fond  ones  are  flown, 
O  who  would  inhabit 

This  bleak  world  alone?" 
Then,  dearest  of  angels  (Kneels — Devils  fly); 
No  longer  delay! 

Angel  approaches.     Snakes  run  off. 
Come,  spread  your  bright  pinions 
And  bear  me  away!     (Rising.) 
Who  knows  hut  that  one  single  prayer 
Might  throw  all  Hell  into  confusion! 
But  was  it  prayer,  or  Tom  Moore's  spirit 
Falling  on  my  heart!     'Tis  the  poet's  gift 
To  weave  mysterious  measures  for  the  soul, 
And  make  calamity  a  cup  of  consolation. 
Perhaps  this  was  all ;  and  yet  I  do  feel 
As  though  a  serpent  had  uncoiled  my  heart 
And  dropped  back  to  Hell. 
I'd  pray  again,  but  prayers  are  mere  wind; 
The  big  winds  only  bump  about  the  world ; 
Then  why  should  smaller  ones  puff  up  to  Heaven  ? 

Angels  vanish  and  devils  steal  back  exulting. 
No,  I'll  wrestle  with  these  devils  all  alone. 
"Go  tell  5'our  masters  of  Carroli 
That,  like  an  eagle  in  a  dovecote, 
I  fluttered  your  Volsci.    Alone  I  did  it!" 

Enter  Conger  on  balcony,  unseen  by  Booth. 
Poor  Lilly!  when  that  message  came  tonight — 
All  tears  and  agony,  she  fell  upon  my  knees, 
Clung  to  her  Prince,  and  bathed  his  robes  in  tears. 
O  that  the  Prince  could  save  him !    Yes,  sweet  Lilly, 
Fairest  flower  of  the  field !  to  die  for  him 
Would  lead  ambition  to  a  nobler  stage 
And  make  a  tragedy  to  suit  me  well ! 
She  reminds  me  of  "The  Last  Rose  of  Summer," 

r  53 1 


MADAME      SURRATT 


For  other  sisters  blossomed  in  that  garden  then, 
When  Beall  was  radiant  as  the  noon-day  sun, 
And  gave  those  blossoms  half  their  beauty. 
I'll  sing  that  song  for  her  sake.     (Sings.) 

"Thus  kindly  I  scatter  thy  leaves  o'er  the  bed, 
Where  thy  mates  of  the  garden  lie  scentless  and  dead." 
By  heavens!     I'll  scatter  the  leaves  o'er  his  bed! 
'Twould  be  a  charity  to  send  her  with  him, 
And  nothing  could  please  the  poor  child  better. 
O  that  she  were  nestling  in  this  bossom  now.     (Drawing  dagger.) 
I'd  send  her  sweet  spirit  to  the  skies 
And  lay  her  lilly  form  upon  his  grave ; 
Then  would  I  slay  their  enemies  and  follow  them, 
To  play  this  tragedy  on  some  mysterious  stage! 
Who  goes  there  ?    I  saw  them  passing — all  in  red — 
Lincoln  and  Johnson,  Seward  and  his  crew. 
Now  they  climb  up  the  masts  like  monkeys, 
Red  jackets  on  them — red  caps,  too.     Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Clasping  his  head. 
O  that  this  too  billowy  brain,  upheaving, 
Would  let  the  ships  down  that  prance  upon  't ! 
Their  giddy  masts  are  tickling  the  big  clouds, 
To  make  them  laugh  loud  thunder,  and  poor  Lincoln 
Tells  anecdotes  to  the  man  i'  the  moon. 

Conger  gives  great  attention. 
Good-natured  soul,  I'll  help  him  up  higher, 
To  ride  on  Pegasus  or  Capricorn  thro'  Heaven. 
Give  us  your  foot,  boy,  bounce!    Away  he  flies!     Ha!  ha!  ha! 

CONGER. 

Mad !    Mad  as  a  March  hare ! 

w.  BOOTH. 

And  now,  if  I  know  myself,  the  king  trembled. 

How  he  leaped  down  from  his  lofty  throne 

When  those  players  probed  him  to  the  quick.      (Laughs.) 

"How  did  the  galled  jade  wince!"    Ha!  ha!  ha! 

Yes ;  the  rules  of  this  most  wicked  world, 

Tho'  riding  on  the  heads  of  groaning  millions, 

Are  tenfold  weaker  than  a  coward's  knees, 

While  justice,  even  when  hanging  on  a  cross, 

[54] 


MADAME       S  U  R  R  A  T  T 


Can  shake  the  universe. 

But  was  it  Hamlet  or  King  Lear  we  played  ? 

Upon  my  soul,  I  do  forget  what  play  was  acted. 

Or  was  it  Richard,  shouting  to  the  clouds, 

"A  horse,  a  horse,  my  kingdom  for  a  horse!" 

And  was  it  real,  or  a  mimic  scene? 

Was  't  the  buskin,  with  its  pompous  lie? 

Or  was  I  what  seemed  to  be — a  king? 

Or  only  Booth  descended  from  Westminister, 

Where  now,  in  Poets'  Corner,  sleep  my  fathers! 

Where  Shakespeare  twirls  his  small  mustache  and  smiles 

When  th'  elder  Booth  at  midnight  plays  again 

To  Sheridan  and  Burke  and  rare  old  Ben, 

Moving  sometimes  as  Brutus  on  the  stage, 

And  raising  such  a  tempest  in  his  wrath 

That  the  ghosts  all  tremble  and  their  great  kings 

Run  back,  like  mice,  into  their  crypts. 

Ha!  ha!  how  I  would  like  to  see  them  run — 

Those  blind  old  mice,  the  kings  of  England!     Ha!  ha! 

No,  no ;  I  am  not  Booth ;  'twas  all  a  dream. 

And  yet  it  must  be  so,  for  never  did  King  Lear 

Eat  oysters  with  Lieutenant  Beall, 

As  I  did  often  at  Delmonico's, 

Sometimes  at  Harvey's,  on  the  Avenue. 

And  must  he  die  so  soon — he,  my  best  friend  ? 

The  lightning  rushed  to  tell  me  of  his  fate, 

And  fainted — zigzag  marks  upon  her  cheek. 

CONGER. 

He  needs  a  doctor  more  than  a  detective. 
I'll  try  to  find  his  brother  Edwin. 

Exit. 
w.  BOOTH. 

God!  and  must  he  stand  alone! 

His  brave  arms  defiant,  folded  on  his  breast! 

No,  he  shall  have  an  escort.    Yes,  brave  Prince ! 

King  Lear  is  all  deserted  by  his  court ; 

The  tempest  breaks  and  cracks  upon  his  cheek — 

"Only  fifty  attendants  for  a  king!" 

But  thou  shall  have  an  escort.     I  will  send 

The  whole  cabinet,  who  took  part  against  me 

[55] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Here  tonight  with  those  ungrateful  daughters — 

Lincoln  and  Johnson,  Seward — all ;  I  saw  them, 

Laughing  with  those  devils — black,  and  blue,  and  red — 

Base  plebians,  tricked  \vi   power  to  mock  a  king! 

Ha!  ha!  (picks  up  Richard's  crown,  puts  it  on.) 

King  Lear  shall  wear  his  power  again, 

And  his  scepter  for  a  moment  hidden  thus  (draws  dagger), 

Shall  spring  upon  them,  like  the  venomed  snake, 

Whose  hissing  tongue  and  horny  rattles  shake 

Such  notes  of  war  that  all  the  world  shall  quake. 

Exit. 
Enter  John  Brown  and  devils,  burning  brimstone  in  a  caldron- 
all  singing. 

Stir  the  brimstone,  stir  it  well ; 

We  brought  it  from  the  pits  of  Hell ! 

Stir  the  brimstone,  let  him  smell 

The  price  of  blood,  the  stink  of  Hell! 

Stir  the  brimstone,  stir  the  snake, 

We  brought  him  from  the  Stygian  lake ! 

Stir  his  rattles,  let  him  shake 

Such  notes  of  war  that  all  the  world  shall  quake! 

W.  BOOTH   (behind  scenes). 
Such  notes  of  war  that  all  the  world  shall  quake ! 

JOHN  BROWN  (last  in  procession). 

See  him  standing  there, 

The  picture  of  despair; 

How  his  eyeballs  glare! 

Then  do  your  duty  well 

And  drag  him  down  to  Hell ; 

Drag  him  down,  all  red  with  blood ; 

Then  plunge  him  in  the  Stygian  flood, 

And  let  not  mercy  shed  a  tear 

For  the  blood-stained  murderer! 

Enter  Edwin  Booth. 


[56] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


E.  BOOTH. 

Surely  'twas  his  voice!     Wilkie,  brother,  speak! 
No,  'twas  but  the  loud  wind,  too  fondly  echoed 
From  a  brother's  heart  and  coined  into  his  accents, 
Weird,  unearthly  sounds,  that  seemed  to  mock  him ! 

Enter  Baker. 

E.  BOOTH. 

Hello,  Baker!  why,  my  brave  boy, 
You  play  the  fishmonger  splendidly. 
But  why  do  you  detectives  follow  me  ? 
You  know  that  I  am  loyal. 

BAKER. 

Yes,  that  is  so ;  we  know  that  you  are  loyal, 

But  your  brother  either  plays  fantastic  tricks 

From  madness  or  from  hatching  deep  designs. 

Come,  Booth,  can  you  account  for  his  strange  conduct? 

E.  BOOTH. 

Well,  'tis  no  easy  matter  to  explain, 
But  listen  and  you'll  get,  at  least,  a  glimpse. 
'Tis  the  sad  fate  of  actors,  when  o'ervvrought, 
Especially  in  tragedy,  that  losing  the  helm 
And  staggering  on  the  deck,  like  sailors 
When  a  ship  goes  down,  they  drink  too  deeply! 
Poor  fellow !  he  can't  last  long  at  this  rate. 
When  finishing  his  part  tonight  his  eyes 
Did  glow  like  two  great  balls  of  fire. 
Even  his  sister  stood  amazed 
And  his  best  friends  fled  from  him. 

BAKER. 

But  does  acting  make  a  man  disloyal, 
Or  does  it  put  him  on  the  scent  of  blood  ? 

E.  BOOTH. 

Listen  and  you  may  partly  understand: 
'Tis  a  lonely  life  that  actors  lead ; 
Too  often  from  society  excluded, 

[57] 


MADAME       S  U  R  R  A  T  T 


Like  birds  of  evil  omen  by  the  sea, 

They  seem  to  meditate  some  tragic  act ; 

Or,  more  like  gas  pipes,  waiting  for  the  darkness, 

Their  very  nature  takes  a  hue  of  sadness. 

Their  disappointments,  too,  are  manifold, 

And,  like  those  other  birds  that  follow  ships, 

Players,  upheld  on  agile  wings  of  genius, 

Diversions  render  to  an  idle  crew 

For  tossing  them  a  few  crumbs. 

And  yet  in  this  my  brother  was  most  fortunate, 

Clearing  in  one  year  twenty  thousand  dollars ; 

Then  coining  ten  for  one  by  speculation. 


Enter  Valco 


VALCO. 

I  have  been  to  his  room ;  he  had  not  yet  returned. 

E.  BOOTH  (aside  to  Valco). 

Go  quickly,  Valco ;  put  him  on  his  guard ; 

Detectives  now  are  on  his  track  ; 

Warn  him  of  the  danger ;  I  will  hold  them  here. 

BAKER. 

Well,  I  must  go.    You  can't  explain  him,  eh? 

E.  BOOTH   (taking  his  buttonhole  confidingly). 

Stay  for  a  moment ;  I  can  soon  explain. 

Yes;  he  acquired  suddenly  a  large  fortune; 

And  yet  it  is  the  saddest  thing  of  all 

That  actors,  like  humming  birds  on  flowers  feeding, 

Subsist  upon  imagination's  marrow, 

Whose  subtle  essence  so  can  change  the  brain 

That  truth  and  falsehood  in  its  conformation 

Play  for  awhile  bo-peep ;  then  bed  together. 

Conspiracies,  and  lusts,  and  stooping  murder 

Would  thence  be  born  but  for  our  pride  and  breeding* 

Or,  to  speak  more  properly,  but  for  grace 

Which  Heaven  supplies  to  them  who  need  it  most. 

baker  (pulling  away). 

Well,  all  of  that  to  me,  Booth, 
Is  just  about  as  clear  as  mud. 

[58] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


E.  BOOTH   {clinging  to  his  buttonhole). 

Would  you  but  listen,  I  could  well  explain  him ; 

For  th'  imagination,  like  an  angel, 

Leaps  from  the  sky,  all  redolent  of  incense, 

But  our  perversity  of  will  doth  taint  it, 

And  low-bom  Lust,  upon  his  belly  creeping, 

Can  dream  of  angels,  and  would  coil  them  to  his  scales. 

All  crimes  are  cradled  in  th'  imagination, 

And  hence  the  great  actor  plays  a  dangerous  role. 

BAKER. 

Damn'd  if  I  don't  believe  you  are  all  crazy. 

E.  BOOTH. 

To  be  above  the  common  sort  of  men, 

Is,  after  all,  but  Midas  played  upon  the  stage ; 

The  gods  might  turn  our  very  brains  to  gold. 

But  who  would  eat  them  ?    Do  swine  munch  pearls  ? 

Festus  or  Agrippa — I  forget  which — 

But  one  of  them  called  Saul  a  madman. 

Now,  listen,  for  I'm  coming  to  the  point, 

And  will  tell  my  brother's  secret,  if  you'll  keep  it. 

BAKER. 

Yes,  I'll  keep  anything;  but  damn  it, 
Tell  me  in  plain  language. 

E.  BOOTH. 

I  will;  but  recall  what  I  have  just  said, 

That  the  great  actor  plays  a  dangerous  role ; 

For  acting,  would  it  move  the  soul,  must  lose 

Its  own  conception  and  become  reality. 

'Tis  a  transient  madness — mikra  mania, 

The  Greeks  believed ;  and  when  it  drops  the  mask, 

Or  seems  to  pass  away,  still  in  the  brain 

Its  eggs  lie  buried,  to  hatch  the  cocatrice. 

That  dangerous  role  long  hath  my  brother  played  ; 

Nor  can  you  judge  him  as  a  common  man, 

For  he  was  ever  Fancy's  star-born  child, 

With  agile  step  to  climb  her  flying  wheels, 

[59] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


To  snatch  with  easy  hand  the  silken  reins 
And  guide  her  coursers  thro'  th'  sky! 

BAKER  {pulling  away  and  escaping). 

I  must  go.     I  can't  understand  you.  Exit. 

E.  BOOTH    {looking  after  him). 

No ;  and  as  little  will  this  huckstering  world 

The  waywardness  of  genius  to  the  end  of  time ! 

Its  greatest  crimes  are  often  but  misfortunes, 

And  its  petty  follies  like  spots  upon  the  sun ! 

And  so  little  things  about  us  judge 

As  children  gazing  at  a  firefly — 

To  them  more  splendid  than  a  distant  star; 

The  one  an  insect,  one  a  glorious  world — 

Sometimes  a  world  in  ruins  flying  from  its  sphere — 

To  the  great  mass  of  men  a  gilded  rag — 

Imposture  finery,  fading  at  a  touch, 

Or  smiling  sycophants  flipped  up  to  power, 

Mere  coin-struck  images  for  head  and  tail, 

Or  glittering  equipage  for  some  preposterous  fool, 

More  glorious  than  the  majesty  of  mind! 

Exit. 

SCENE    II — Street  in    Washington   near  Madame   Surratt's — 
Enter  W .  Booth  cloaked. 

w.  BOOTH. 

Yon  weary  stars,  now  fading  one  by  one, 

Dying,  salute  their  Caesar  in  the  sky ; 

So  these  proud  States,  though  sovereign  from  their  birth, 

Must  yield  to  one  great  Federal  power. 

The  very  brutes  have  joined  our  brutish  foes 

And  seem  to  triumph  as  the  stars  go  down  ; 

Yon  clamorous  cock,  impatient  of  the  dawn, 

Rings  his  shrill  clarion  to  the  morning  air — 

A  proclamation  to  the  feathered  tribes 

That  Federal  power  is  armed  with  spurs,-— 

And  the  loud  clapping  of  his  stormy  wings 

Shuts  to  the  doors  of  mercy  on  his  kind, 

Or,  like  some  Beecher-publican,  he  smites 

[60] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


His  breast  to  wake  yon  harem  from  its  slumbers, 

All  covetous  of  light,  that  they  may  run  once  more 

Attentive  to  his  cluck,  albeit  he  gobbles  down 

The  luscious  worm,  indifferent  to  their  presence ; 

But  they  can  gaze  upon  his  cockish  neck, 

Admire  his  feathers,  glittering  in  the  sun, 

And  stoop,  obedient  to  the  sultan's  will ! 

Alas!  poor  States,  the  harem  of  a  President! 

Down,  down,  vile  thoughts  that  mix  my  country's  glory 

With  dunghills  and  the  meanest  of  mankind, 

For  day  is  breaking  and  his  gray  Confederate  robe 

Moves  like  a  ghost  about  the  Capitol. 

Yon  twittering  birds,  impatient  of  the  chain 

Which  tyrant  sleep  had  woven  thro'  the  night, 

Dart  forth  exulting  from  each  parapet; 

Yon  revelers,  returning,  heel  the  pavements, 

And  echo  far  away,  from  Arlington,  replies: 

O  glorious  Arlington,  tomb  of  a  nation ! 

Thou  headboard  at  my  country's  grave! 

Ye  marble-hearted  columns,  hear  my  vow! 

My  venerated  sires,  Virginia's  sons! 

And  all  ye  great  and  venerable  memories  attest ! 

Enter  Lilly  behind  and  laying  her  hand  upon  him. 
Why,  Lilly,  you  have  cut  my  vow  off  just 
Above  its  shoulders.    How  came  you  here,  child ? 

LILLY. 

Not  for  an  instant  have  I  slept  all  night, 
But  prayed  incessantly  for  my  poor  brother ; 
And  when  I  heard  your  voice,  those  silvery  tones 
Which  I  depend  upon  to  plead  with  Lincoln, 
No  longer  could  I  keep  my  bed,  but  ran  down 
To  urge  you  forward.    O  my  brave  friend, 
Plead  for  his  life ;  lose  not  a  single  moment ; 
Lincoln  has  a  good  heart,  and  you  can  move  it. 

w.  BOOTH. 

Just  as  you  came  I  had  built  a  vow ; 

The  purport  was,  that  should  he  not  pardon  him, 

I'd  strike  this  dagger  to  his  heart. 

Draws  dagger. 


[61] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


LILLY. 

O  terrible!     May  God  forbid  such  madness! 

The  President  is  not  a  private  citizen, 

And  acting  in  th'  affairs  of  State,  is  but 

A  servant  of  the  people ;  for  his  heart. 

As  I  have  urged,  is  tender,  and  no  woman 

Has  a  kinder  heart  than  Mr.  Lincoln's. 

Yet  Stanton  and  the  cabinet  must  be  consulted ; 

One  factor  cannot  cancel  all,  and  I 

Would  rather  see  my  brother  perish 

By  the  laws  of  war  than  that  his  friend 

Should  stoop  to  such  a  purpose! 

W.  BOOTH. 

'Tis  well  for  women  to  talk  thus,  but  I  know 

All  the  necessities  of  this  occasion, 

And  shall  bear  myself  as  Brutus,  when  he  rose 

"Refulgent  from  the  stroke  of  Caesar's  fate"; 

But  you  have  not  answered  me.     How  came  you  here  ? 

LILLY. 

Madame  Surratt,  my  friend,  and  this  her  home. 
She  gives  her  hospitality  to  all  Confederates, 
And,  indeed,  to  any  mortal  in  distress; 
For  her  charity  is  boundless.     How  came  you  here? 

BOOTH. 

Perplexed  all  night,  I  wandered  thro'  the  streets, 

Acting  sometimes  King  Lear  and  sometimes  Richard ; 

But  that  is  past,  with  much  quite  horrible; 

The  dawn  returns  me  to  myself  once  more, 

To  this  too  real  world  and  your  brave  brother's  fate. 

Let  me  away  to  Lincoln;  I'll  demand  his  pardon. 

Flourishing  a  dagger — going. 

LILLY. 

O  my  brave  friend,  use  all  your  eloquence, 
But  do  not  harm,  for  my  poor  brother's  sake. 
Remember,  he  dies  tomorrow! 

[62] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


W.  BOOTH. 

If  he  must  die  tomorrow,  mark  my  words, 

Like  some  great  prince,  from  foreign  lands  attended, 

He  shall  enter  the  courts  of  the  Celestial  King 

Followed  by  dignitaries  clad  in  purple — 

Aye  in  purple  shall  they  stand  before  him ! 

Flourishing  dagger — Exit — Enter  Madame  Surratt. 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

O  my  pretty  Lilly,  what  can  all  this  mean? 

It  seemed  to  be  your  voice,  you  pretty  sinner ! 

And  whose,  dear,  were  those  heavier  silvery  chords, 

That  made  the  night  so  musical  ? 

You  must  come  into  the  house,  child ;  come,  come  in ; 

'Twill  never  do ;  for  e'en  in  virtuous  love 

Proprieties  must  be  observed,  or  scandal, 

Quick  and  keen  as  vultures  on  the  scent, 

Will  pick  the  pupils  of  your  reputation ; 

For  lillies,  child,  are  peerless  in  their  purity ; 

And  though  their  cheeks  may  turn  up  to  the  stars, 

They  dare  not  trust  their  pearly  bosoms 

Even  to  the  glances  of  the  moon. 

For  this  St.  Joseph  bears  them  thro'  the  world, 

While  at  his  side  the  Virgin  mother  stands ; 

Then  remember  your  name,  child ;  come,  come  in, 

And  let  me  plant  my  lilly  in  her  bed. 

LILLY. 

This  mystery  first  to  be  explained. 

All  night  long  had  I  been  praying  for  my  brother, 

When  Booth,  his  bosom  Triend,  came  wandering  by, 

With  wild  soliloquies,  and  lured  me  thither. 

Gone  to  besiege  the  President;  he  turned 

Yon  corner  as  you  came. 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

O  my  pretty  Lilly,  'tis  too  sad ! 
What  can  be  done?    I'll  go  myself  to  Lincoln ; 
For  well  he  knows  me,  and  many  favors,  too, 
Hath  granted  me — a  Rebel,  for  her  Rebel  friends. 

[63] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


The  poor,  good-natured  man — Heaven's  blessings  on  him ! 
Once  wept  like  a  child  when  I  pled  the  cause 
Of  a  deserter  whose  mother  was  my  guest. 

LILLY. 

A  Union  soldier  ?    His  mother  your  guest  ? 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

Start  not,  my  child,  for  tho'  this  humble  roof 

Gives  heartier  welcome  to  Confederate  friends, 

Yet  Union  people  come  to  me  as  well, 

For  in  the  deeper  sorrows  of  the  human  heart 

No  party  spirit  ever  yet  could  move  me. 

These  hands  would  help  the  meanest  thing  that  breathes ; 

My  tears  would  always  flow,  perhaps  too  foolishly, 

And  some  have  mocked  me  for  my  childish  heart, 

But  I  would  rather  die  the  vilest  death 

Than  spurn  the  poorest  creature  from  my  door. 

At  any  rate,  I  pled  for  this  deserter. 

At  first,  when  I  would  justify  the  boy, 

And  tried  some  learned  precedent  of  law, 

His  Excellence  put  on  a  solemn  air 

And  told  an  anecdote,  in  ridicule. 

At  this  I  took  another  turn  and  asked  him  thus: 

Do  you  remember,  Mr.  President,  your  mother  ? 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "and  when  I  used  to  go  to  mill, 

Or  plowed  among  the  daisies  in  the  field, 

I  never  saw  a  pretty  flower  but  what 

I  thought  of  her;  and  when  I  came  from  school  or  work, 

She  always  met  me  with  her  blessing,  saying, 

'Ab'ram,  you'll  one  day  be  President !'  " 

I  seized  the  cue  and,  aiming  quick,  exclaimed, 

Suppose  that  mother,  kneeling  at  your  feet,  should  say, 

"Spare  the  poor  boy;  O  spare  him  for  his  mother's  sake!" 

At  this  I  paused.    The  magistrate  seemed  struggling 

With  his  filial  heart.    The  strong  man  trembled 

And  T  added:  "Could  you  spurn  your  mother 

From  your  feet  ?    I  am  a  mother,  too,  and  know 

A  mother's  heart!"    At  this  the  tears  rushed  down 

His  rugged  face  and,  rising  hastily,  he  said, 

Placing  meanwhile  his  hand  upon  his  heart: 

[64] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


"Go  tell  his  mother,  madam,  that  my  mother 
Pleads  for  the  boy — that  I  have  pardoned  him." 

LILLY  {clasping  Madame  Surratt). 

O  madam,  we  have  a  loving  mother,  too; 
Go  plead  for  her,  for  me,  for  all  of  us, 
And  save  my  brother  if  you  can. 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

Hark!  hark!  'tis  th'  angelus!     Now  angels  sing, 
And  I  have  learned  thro'  life  that  God  most  honors 
TR'  enterprise  that  early  honors  Him. 
'Tis  th'  angelus  of  St.  Dominic.    That  island, 
Once  a  den  of  thieves,  has  risen  thro'  this  saint, 
And  thro'  the  sweet  lives  of  his  hooded  monks, 
To  eminence  in  all  good  works — see,  see ! 
With  misty  caps  upon  their  venerable  heads, 
Yon  hills  of  Maryland  salute  the  morn  ; 
Let  us  salute  the  real  sun,  of  whom 
Yon  fiery  orb  is  but  a  passing  shade, 
Perhaps  the  shadow  of  his  crown.    We'll  first 
Prefer  our  suit  before  the  King  of  Kings. 

LILLY. 

Stay,  stay!  my  rosary,  yet  in  bed, 
Keeps  company  with  tears  upon  it  shed, 
Where  all  night  long  I  counted,  one  by  one, 
Those  bloody  drops  in  mem'ry  of  God's  Son, 
And  paid  to  every  bead  a  tear — ah,  me! 
From  Bethlehem  to  Calvary! 
Then  wait  one  moment  till  my  rosary  brings 
Its  mournful  tribute  to  the  King  of  Kings! 

MADAME  SURRATT. 


Exit. 


O  charming  child !  those  beads,  methinks,  in  Heaven 
Will  plead  upon  thy  cheek,  O  thou  Immaculate! 
Then  Lincoln  cannot  halt,  for  thou  didst  give 
Thy  precious  tears  to  mingle  in  the  font 
Which  brought  him  to  the  gate  of  Paradise  ; 
That  font  was  water,  and  that  water  blood, 

[65] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Gushing  for  all  mankind! 
What  tho'  ambition  shattered  his  pure  faith, 
Still  from  its  crevices  do  flowers  spring, 
And  o'er  the  desert  waste  an  influence  fling. 
He  loves  his  mother,  and  her  Godlike  faith. 
It  must  come  back  to  him,  thro'  life  and  death, 
Nor  can  he  spurn  us  when  we  plead  for  one 
Baptized  with  him,  our  Holy  Mother's  Son! 

Enter  Annie  Surratt,  who  runs  to  her  mother  and  kisses  her. 

ANNIE. 

Kiss  me  again,  sweet  mother  dear.     O  mother, 
Such  a  dream  as  I  had  last  night! 
'Twas  but  a  dream,  but  O  so  terrible! 
Methought  some  soldiers  dragged  you  to  a  cell, 
Where  vermin  crawl'd  about  your  precious  form, 
And  all  the  while  they  mocked  you  for  your  faith ; 
Then  loaded  you  with  chains,  and  then — O  God ! 
A  dismal  scaffold  rose  up  to  my  view, 
To  which  you  tottered  with  a  crucifix, 
Oft  kissing  it  and  bathing  with  your  tears. 
Good  Father  Walters,  too,  was  at  your  side, 
Sustained  your  tottering  step  and  comfort  gave. 
I  shrieked  and  woke.    Kiss  me  again,  sweet  mother! 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

Our  stomachs,  overgorged,  may  nightmares  breed 
More  numerous  than  the  mares  of  Thessaly; 
Yet  dreams,  my  child,  do  sometimes  come  to  pass ; 
Prophets  and  priests  have  often  been  forewarned ; 
While  dreams  ran  up  and  down  on  Jacob's  ladder. 
Warned  by  a  dream,  St.  Joseph  took  the  child 
And  fled  with  him  to  Egypt,  that  same  land 
Where  Joseph  plucked  from  Pharoaoh's  mystic  dream 
The  coming  corn  to  stay  the  direful  famine. 

ANNIE. 

Ah,  yes;  and  in  that  very  dream  to  Joseph  given 
A  gibbet  rose  to  view,  such  as  I  saw. 

[66] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


MADAME    SURRATT. 

The  very  mornings  of  this  world  are  sad, 
And  come  to  us  each  day  subdued  by  tears, 
As  a  sweet  mother  gazing  on  her  prodigals. 
The  very  crosses  on  our  foreheads,  child, 
Draw  blood,  and  hence  those  ashes  to  remind  us, 
Traced  by  our  mother  church — Ash  Wednesday. 
What  wonder,  then,  if  you  and  I  should  suffer? 
Suffering  must  come,  but  dreams  can  never  bring  them. 

ANNIE. 

0  mother,  what  I  saw  was  real ; 

No  language  could  express  it ;  it  was  real. 

MADAME    SURRATT. 

More  dreams,  my  child,  than  moons  have  been  fulfilled; 

But  prophets  only,  such  as  Joseph  was, 

Can  pluck  the  beard  of  coming  Time  ere  yet 

The  morning  wets  it  with  her  tears,  or  hold 

Him  to  account  while  in  the  bosom  of  his  God, 

Cheer  up ;  forget  it  all ;  'twas  but  a  dream — 

Some  fairy  fancy  tickling  with  a  straw 

And  playing  on  the  tendrils  of  your  heart! 

Why  do  you  weep — ha!  ha!  ha! — you  little  goose? 

Go,  get  your  wrapping;  we  are  late  for  Mass. 

ANNIE  (going,  returns). 

One  moment  more;  I  had  another  dream; 

1  thought  that  Lilly,  pale  and  sad, 

Stood  moaning  by  the  sea  with  J.  Wilkes  Booth. 

Some  soldiers  fired,  and  her  brother  fell. 

Booth  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and  all  was  silent, 

Silent  as  death ;  the  very  air  stood  still. 

Then  a  ghost  rose — her  brother's  ghost. 

Ah,  me !  it  was  a  horrid  sight — most  horrible ! 

MADAME    SURRATT. 

How  strange!     'Tis  more  than  strange!     'Tis  wonderful! 
For  Lilly's  history,  to  her  unknown} — 
Her  brother's,  too — it  seems  prophetical. 

[67] 


Exit. 


MADAME      SURRATT 


The  very  winds  are  ever  full  of  prophecies, 
And  God  asserts  himself  in  every  breeze, 
As  well  as  in  the  thunderstorm; 
But  most  of  all  doth  He  delight  to  dwell 
In  human  hearts  by  suffering  sanctified. 
Then  give  me  sufferings  and  make  this  heart 
An  humble  palace  for  the  Prince  of  Peace! 

Enter  John  Surratt,  excited. 

JOHN   SURRATT. 

Well,  mother,  I  have  the  whole  plot  complete. 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

Plot? 

JOHN  SURRATT. 

Yes,  plot;  no  plot  in  the  graveyard,  mother; 
No  plot  to  burn  the  Capitol ;  no  villainy ; 
But  simply  (if  you  please  to  call  it  so) 
A  purpose,  and  a  good  one,  too — a  plan 
To  seize  the  President  and  take  him  South. 

MADAME    SURRATT. 

Oh !  oh !  for  Heaven's  sake,  my  son,  desist ; 
'Twould  cost  your  life.     O  listen  to  your  mother! 

JOHN  SURRATT. 

'Twas  ever  thus:  "Oh!"  "oh!"  "aw!"  "aw!" 
Whenever  fortune  beckons  me  and  bids  me  move, 
You  interpose  "Aw!"  "oh!"     What  splendid  reasoning! 
Then,  not  convincing  me,  you  run  to  church 
And  thwart  me  by  your  prayers;  they  always  balk  me, 
Drive  me  back,  and  turn  my  hopes  to  ashes! 

MADAME    SURRATT. 

Well,  son,  your  mother  may  be  a  great  fool ; 

But  fools  can  sometimes  give  advice, 

And  if  ever  my  prayers  prevailed  in  Heaven 

To  thwart  your  purpose,  Heaven  is  foolish,  too. 

[68] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


JOHN  SURRATT. 

I  don't  mean  that.     Our  plan  is  simply  this: 
To  seize  the  President,  but  not  to  harm  him  ; 
To  take  him  prisoner  of  war  and  save  the  South. 
All  has  been  arranged,  and  I  must  do  my  part; 
But  promise  you  this,  mother,  to  shed  no  blood. 
To  seize  the  Presidet  and  keep  him  safe ; 
And  this  I  will  do,  cost  what  it  may. 

MADAME    SURRATT. 


Exit. 


A  woman's  reasoning,  fruitless  as  her  tears! 

But  not  so  vain,  a  weeping  mother's  prayers; 

They  must  prevail,  for  God  hath  wedded  here 

(Hand  on  her  heart)  Eternal  sentiments  of  love  and  prayer. 

A  mother's  love,  a  mother's  prayers  were  given 

To  plead,  like  angels,  at  the  gate  of  Heaven! 

Exit. 

Enter  Annie,  Lilly  following  her  from  the  stage. 
SCENE   III — President's  Mansion — Lincoln   alone,   reading   alone. 

LINCOLN. 

I  would  rather  split  rails  in  Illinois 

For  fifty  cents  a  day  than  run  this  Government ; 

For  who  can  tell,  in  these  great  waves  of  state, 

As  brand-new  questions  press  him  to  the  chin, 

Where  the  next  step  might  sink  him  ? 

Now,  when  I  practiced  law  out  West, 

The  judge  and  jury  always  took  a  part ; 

But  here,  as  President,  I  stand  alone; 

For  cabinets  and  councilors  are  nothing. 

Great  causes  were  entrusted  to  me  then, 

Partly  because  I  knew  some  law,  but  more 

(As  country  people  often  have  expressed  it) 

Because  "Old  Abe  could  never  be  bought  off." 

But  there's  one  bribe,  and  only  one,  that  tempts  me — 

That's  when  a  poor  mother  pleads  with  her  tears; 

For  when  I  read  the  wrinkles  of  her  face, 

That  book  of  books,  telling  its  mournful  tale, 

[69] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


My  own  dear  mother  rises  from  the  ground. 
By  Heavens !  she  always  turns  me  to  a  baby. 
I  was  her  first  and  only  child  and  do  believe 
I'll  be  a  baby  to  the  last!     My  mother's  booby! 
A  President  should  be  made  of  better  grit, 
And  I  was  never  fit  for  such  an  office. 

Enter  Page. 

PAGE. 

That  fisherman,  Your  Excellence,  whom 
You  saw  last  evening. 

LINCOLN. 

Bring  him  in. 

Enter   Baker. 

BAKER. 

Our  office,  please  Your  Excellence,  is  delicate, 

And  you  have  charged  us  never  to  arrest 

In  doubtful  cases.    Now,  one  of  your  friends, 

Whom  we  have  often  seen  in  these  apartments, 

Is  either  crazy  or  your  direst  foe. 

We  found  him  in  the  streets  last  night ;  a  dagger 

Oft  fie  brandished  in  the  air  and  cursed  you  bitterly. 

'Twas  Booth,  the  actor,  coming  now  to  see  you, 

And  I  hastened  up  to  put  you  on  your  guard. 

LINCOLN. 

0  don't  mind  him.     He  was  only  acting  tragedy. 
True,  he's  a  Rebel,  for  he  tells  me  so ; 

But  men  who  talk  loudly  are  never  dangerous. 
Now,  when  a  Rebel  tries  to  lead  the  crowd 

1  slap  the  law  upon  him  quick  as  lightning; 
And  that's  the  way  I  snatched  Vallandingham ; 
But  men  like  Booth — mere  talkers — do  no  harm. 
My  motto  from  the  first  has  been, 

"Malice  to  none,  but  charity  for  all.'* 

BAKER. 

Well,  Your   Excellence,   I've  nothing  more  to  say. 

[70] 


Exit. 


MADAME      SURRATT 


LINCOLN. 

Well,  certain  it  is  that  I  have  done  my  best. 

In  cases  of  doubt,  I  lean  to  mercy's  side, 

That,  when  I  come  to  die,  mercy  may  lean  to  me; 

But  when  I  know  the  law,  laid  down  in  precedent. 

Or  growing  up  from  roots  of  truth  and  justice, 

I'll  execute  it,  certain  as  a  gun! 

Reading. 
Now  here's  a  brand-new  case — Lieutenant  Beall's. 
Captured  with  letters  of  marque  and  reprisal, 
He  claims  that  they  protect  him  in  our  lines ; 
But  whether  such  letters  hold  on  the  lakes 
(Even  if  our  lakes  are  great  inland  seas) 
As  well  as  on  the  ocean,  "that  is  the  question/' 
If  on  the  lakes,  then  on  the  rivers,  too ; 
If  on  the  rivers,  then  within  our  lines; 
And  so  a  spy,  covered  up  by  fool's  cap, 
Might  claim  exemption  and  demand  exchange. 

Enter  Booth — Lincoln  shakes  hands. 
Why,  Booth,  can  you  afford  to  play  all  night, 
And  then  get  up  before  the  chickens? 

BOOTH. 

Thus  early  do  I  come,  Your  Excellence, 

To  plead  for  justice  and  Lieutenant  Beall. 

Glow-worms  are  not  so  plentiful  of  late, 

And  he  who  hopes  to  find  them  must  rise  early. 

Resplendent  do  they  sparkle  on  the  robes  of  night, 

But  hide  their  radiance  from  the  garish  day ; 

So  Justice  shines,  perhaps,  in  other  lands, 

But  in  this  land  of  light  'tis  rarely  found. 

Preachers  are  plentiful  and  piety  a  drug; 

But  even-handed  Justice,  where  is  she? 

Scarcer  than  glow-worms,  muffling  up  their  faces! 

Or,  since  you  speak  of  chickens,  "scarcer  than  hens'  teeth" ; 

And  yet  she  sometimes  springs  forth  like  a  serpent. 

Clutching  his  dagger. 

Th'  avenging  Nemesis  may  be  at  hand. 
Rome  had  a  Brutus,  England  a  Cromwell. 
Mark  my  words! 

[71] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


LINCOLN    {exposing  his  bosom). 

Well,  Booth,  that  reminds  me  of  a  coon  hunt 

That  I  once  had  in  Illinois.    Jim  Douglas, 

Cousin,  you  know,  to  Stephen  Douglas — not  Fred ; 

O  no,  not  Fred ;  I  never  hunt  with  him ; 

He  clomb  a  tree  where  we  had  treed  the  coon, 

And  crawled  out  on  a  limb  to  catch  him. 

What  did  the  coon  do  but  make  a  dash  at  Douglas. 

Under  the  limb  he  went,  and  the  coon  passed, 

As  Jim  would  say  when  he  played  poker. 

Now,  cypress  limbs,  you  know,  are  very  slick, 

And  Jim  could  never  get  on  top  again. 

He  tried  hard  to  chin  it — full  thirty  feet 

Above  the  ground — ha!  ha!  ha! — and,  giving  up  at  last,  cried  out 

"Hold  the  dogs,  Abe,  for  God  sake's  hold  the  dogs!" 

But  could  I  hold  some  twenty  dogs  or  more? 

So  down  he  fell,  and  the  dogs  piled  on  him — ha!  ha!  ha! 

Now,  Booth,  if  I  should  pardon  everybody, 

The  dogs  would  pile  on  me.     But  there's  no  coon 

That  ever  scared  me  yet.     I'll  keep  on  top  o'  the  limb. 

Exposing  his  bosom. 

BOOTH. 

O  the  hard-hearted  villain!     One  argument, 

{Clutches  dagger.) 

And  only  one,  can  reach  him ; 
But  that  must  be  the  last! 

To  Lincoln. 
Letters  of  marque  and  reprisal  should  protect  him, 
And  in  the  name  of  Justice  I  demand  his  pardon! 

LINCOLN. 

'Pon  my  word  I'm  sorry  for  the  young  man ; 

But,  Booth,  you  don't  know  what  I  have  to  contend  with 

Nor  my  responsibilities. 

BOOTH   {clutching  dagger). 
Then  I  suppose  he  dies  tomorrow? 

[72] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


LINCOLN    {exposing  his  bosom). 

Yes;  for  in  my  heart,  true  to  this  great  country, 
I  can  find  no  place  for  pardon. 

BOOTH   {aside). 

I'll  try  once  more. 

What  if  you  yourself  were  on  the  scaffold, 
Condemned  unjustly  to  a  cruel  death? 
Suppose 

LINCOLN. 

The  fact  is,  if  the  sentence  was  unjust, 

And  I  could  see  it  in  that  light,  I'd  pardon  him  ; 

But,  as  you  say  in  Hamlet,  "that  is  the  question." 

BOOTH. 

Hear  me  once  more.     When  I  was  playing  Richelieu, 
You  swore  that  I  had  taught  you  statesmanship ; 
And  when  I  played  Piscara  the  Apostate, 
You  promised  me  whatever  I  might  ask. 
Beall  is  my  bosom  friend,  and  has  a  sister, 
Weeping,  praying,  almost  dying  of  her  grief ; 
He  stands  between  us,  hinged  upon  this  breast, 
And,  like  the  lintel  of  some  fair  palace  door, 
She  meets  him  ever  and  her  kisses  bring 

LINCOLN   {interrupting  him). 

That  kind  of  talk,  Booth,  always  reminds  me 

Of  a  small  ear  of  corn  in  a  big  shuck ; 

And  if  you  expect  my  lip  to  hang  down  like  it, 

Then  you  mistake  the  stalk. 

Old  Davy  Crockett  was  the  man  for  me. 

His  motto  was : 

"Be  sure  you're  right,  then  go  ahead." 

I'll  tell  you  an  anecodote  about  old  Davy: 

'Twas  said,  you  know,  that  he  could  grin  a  coon  down 

From  the  tallest  tree  in  wild-cat  bottom. 

So  another  chap,  he  tried  to  cry  one  down, 

But  he  didn't.     Now,  I'm  like  those  coons; 

As  long  as  I  do  right,  they  can't  cry  me  down ; 

No,  nor  grin  me  down  neither.    They  may  make  faces; 

[73] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Call  me  babboon ;  old  fool,  or  what  they  please  ; 

But,  as  my  old  mother  used  to  say, 

Abram,  do  right  and  the  whole  world  can't  hurt  you! 

But,  Booth,  as  I  said  before,  if  I  knew 

The  sentence  to  be  unjust,  I'd  pardon  him. 

BOOTH    (scornfully). 

If  you  knew  the  sentence  to  be  unjust? 

Rather  say,  if  I  did  know  it  to  be  just, 

Then  would  I  summons  every  man-of-war 

And  every  monitor  that  rides  the  wave, 

That  they  should  thunder  to  the  clouds 

And  shake  this  continent,  or  save  him ! 

(Scornfully)  "If  you  knew  the  sentence  to  be  unjust!" 

Then  know  another  sentence  to  be  just ! 

Advances  towards  him  with  dagger  clutched. 
And  learn  that  Nature,  sovereign  from  her  birth, 
And  all  her  children,  sovereign  from  their  birth, 
Disdain  and  spit  upon  an  unjust  government. 
With  thunder  Hath  she  clad  the  patriot's  arm, 

And  mine (Advancing.) 

Enter  little    Tad,   kissing   his  father. 

TAD. 

O  papa,  I  had  a  dreadful  dream  last  night ! 
'Twas  awful !  awful !    O  'twas  awful ! 

BOOTH  (aside). 

Angels  and  saints  do  walk  about  this  world, 
And  take  ten  thousand  forms  to  shape  our  lives! 
Men  are  but  children,  children  in  disguise ; 
We  need  our  nurses  till  we  reach  the  skies. 

Exit. 
Enter  Madame  Surratt  and  Lilly. 

MADAME    SURRATT. 

Behold  the  sister  of  Lieutenant  Beall, 
Condemned,  Your  Excellence,  to  die  tomorrow. 
His  poor  old  mother,  too,  is  on  her  knees 
Imploring  Heaven  to  bless  Your  Excellence 
And  spare  her  boy. 

[74] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


LILLY  (kneeling). 

O  spare  my  brother,  good,  kind  sir. 

0  spare  him  for  his  mother's  sake; 
For  mine !    O  spare  him !  spare  him ! 

LINCOLN  (aside). 

The  very  name  of  mother  makes  a  child  of  me. 

Wiping    his   eyes. 
And  I  hate  to  look  like  a  fool. 
Ladies,  you  must  excuse  me  for  a  moment. 

HI  eh!— Ill  eh! 

Madame  Surratt  falls  at  his  feet. 

MADAME    SURRATT. 

Behold  in  me,  good  sir,  the  poor  boy's  mother; 
Your  mother,  too,  will  bless  you  from  the  skies ! 

LILLY. 

Pray  don't  leave  us;  say,  good  sir, 

Say  you  will  pardon  him!    Do,  kind  sir, 

For  me — my  mother's,  your  mother's,  sake! 

LINCOLN. 

1  will ;  I  pardon  him.    Go  tell  his  mother. 

LILLY. 

Thanks!  thanks;  ten  thousand  thanks! 
May  Heaven  bless  Your  Excellence ! 

LINCOLN. 

Go,  child,  and  be  a  good  girl ;  for  women, 
Say  what  you  will  about  their  weakness, 
Do  leave,  in  sending  out  great  armies  to  the  world, 
A  something  in  the  heart  of  every  man,     — 
To  which,  as  boatmen  say  out  West, 

'"Twill  do  to  tie  to!,f    Ha!  ha!  ha!  Aside. 

And  they  know  damned  well  how  to  fix  the  ropes!     Ha!  Ha! 
(To  ladies:)     Now,  go  home  and  use  your  power  with  discre- 
tion; 
For  power  you  have,  although  you  may  not  know  it. 

[75] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Yes,  every  home  is  but  a  miniature  of  State, 

And  woman  there,  tho'  dressed  in  homespun  checks, 

Is  God's  own  angel,  sent  to  guard  the  gate, 

Ah,  yes;  I  know  and  well  remember  one — 

My  mother — more  than  all  the  world  to  me, 

And  tho'  her  destiny  was  obscure, 

Her  grave  forgot,  without  a  stone  to  mark 

That  lowly  bed,  yet  still  she  rules  the  State ; 

Great  armies  do  her  bidding ;  and  her  mercy 

Falls  today  on  you,  my  child ! 

But,  ladies,  you'll  excuse  me  now, 

For  I  must  write  the  pardon. 

Exeunt,  except  Lincoln — Writes  the  pardon. 
Yes,  woman's  mission  is  indeed  sublime. 
Tho'   self-approving  man   may  thumb   his  pits, 
And  ape  the  peacock  when  he  spreads  his  tail, 
Yet  woman,  less  obtrusive,  guides  his  feet ; 
For  woman  at  the  cradle  rocks  the  world, 
And  plants  with  every  lullaby  some  germ 
To  ripen  for  the  future  man — his  plow 
To  guide,  to  rule  the  Senate  by  his  tongue, 
Or  plant  on  flaming  battlements  his  banner  ; 
'Tis  hers  to  teach  in  every  sphere ;  her  tears 
Have  won  great  battles  and  her  frown  subdued 
The  mightiest  kings,  while,  more  than  these, 
Her  smile  lights  up  the  ruins  of  a  fallen  world ; 
Her  prayers,  more  potent  still,  can  burst 
The  gates  of  Heaven  and  climb  the  throne  of  God! 
Patient  in  grief,  in  fortitude  sublime. 
When  man  becomes  the  weaker  vessel  and  despairs, 
She  hooks  him  from  the  billow  with  her  faith, 
Puts  back  his  drowning  locks  and  points  him  to  the  stars! 

Enter  Seivard. 
Seward,  I  wish  I  was  out  of  this  business. 
I'd  rather  plow,  split  rails,  or  keep  a  doggery. 
Anything,  by  Heaven,  is  better  than  President! 
Jeff.  Davis  and  his  crew  keep  up  this  fight, 
But  I'd  make  peace  tomorrow  if  I  could. 


SEWARD. 

Would  you  allow  secession,  Mr.  President? 

[76] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


LINCOLN. 

No;  I  don't  mean  that.     I'd  sink  every  ship 
That  floats  our  flag  upon  the  waves, 
Bury  our  last  army  with  its  banners, 
And  then  go  down  into  the  gulf  myself, 
Or  save  this  Union ! 

SEWARD. 

What,  then,  is  the  trouble? 

LINCOLN. 

These  women  bother  me — sisters  and  mothers. 
By  Heaven !  Seward,  I  can't  see  a  woman  cry. 
Your  heart  is  cold  as  ice;  but  mine  wilts 
Whenever  I  see  a  mother  in  distress. 

Wipes  his  eyes. 
They  have  all  been  pleading  here  for  that  young  Beall, 
And  I  have  pardoned  him. 

SEWARD. 

Impossible!   You  cannot,  must  not,  pardon  him. 

LINCOLN. 

Handing  pardon. 
Well,  there  't  is;  I  have  pardoned  him  already. 
Give  it  to  Stanton ;  he  will  send  it  forward, 
I  take  the  responsibility. 

Exit. 

SEWARD. 

I,  too,  will  take  responsibility. 

Your  woman's  heart  would  rend  this  Union  thus. 

Tears   up  the  pardon. 
Enter  Wilkes  Booth. 
BOOTH. 

I  come  to  thank  His  Excellence  and  you 

For  your  gracious  pardon  of  Lieutenant  Beall. 

It  brings  me  back  once  more  to  happier  thoughts, 

And  stifles  in  my  heart  a  dreadful  purpose  ; 

For  this  one  act  of  justice  to  my  friend 

Presages  justice  to  my  native  land. 

Upon  my  soul,  I  thank  ye  both  most  heartily! 

[77] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


SEWARD. 

The  pardon  is  revoked — I  would  not  have  it — 
And  the  felon  dies  tomorrow. 

BOOTH. 

Villain,  you  lie!    He  is  no  felon, 

Seizes  Seward,  shaking  him  violently. 
But  a  soldier,  every  inch ;  thou  the  felon  ; 
Your  own  sons  felons,  to  be  dragged  ere  long 
Before  their  country's  bar  for  peculation; 
That  George,  your  model  thief,  and  Fred, 
Spawned  from  the  same  serpent.     O  I  would  tear  you 
Limb  from  limb  to  save  my  suffering  friend — 
A  man,  a  soldier,  born  to  be  your  master. 
Cold-hearted  villain,  go! 

Hurls  him  off. 
Exeunt. 


[78] 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE   I — Scene   near  the  fort   on    Governor  s  Island — New 

York — Night — Thunder  and   lightning — Enter   Booth. 
Mysterious  powers,  whose  lightning  spurs  drive  on 
TV  unsaddled  winds,  whose  plumes  of  light  touch  Heaven, 
But  vanish  ere  our  tongues  can  bid  ye  halt, 
If  ever  ye  to  mortals  in  distress  stoop  down — 
To  shipwrecked  mariner  or  to  hearts  more  wrecked — 
To  bring  them  Heaven's  pitying  love,  or  covenants 
From  Hell  to  make  a  compact  for  their  souls, 
Behold  in  me  your  vassal  thro'  all  time 
For  this  one  benison — to  burst  yon  gates 
And  guide  me  to  the  dungeon  of  my  friend. 

Enter  John  Brown  s  ghost. 

BROWN. 

That's  a  bargain ;  give  us  your  bone,  old  boy ; 

Don't  try  that  gate,  but  come  along  with  me. 

I  know  a  sentinel — a  poor,  soft  fool — 

In  love  with  a  girl  down  South.    Just  talk  your  nonsense 

For  awhile  to  him  and  he'll  let  you  pass ; 

But  Yanks,  you  know,  mean  business  when  they  trade. 

Then  swear  by  every  sacred  thing  in  Heaven 

To  ratify  this  bargain  for  your  soul. 

BOOTH. 

Aye,  Heaven  and  earth  I  barter.     Lead  me  on! 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  II — Sentinel  pacing  at  door  of  prison. 
SENTINEL. 

Halt!  Enter  Booth. 

BOOTH. 

Soldier,  I  have  a  friend  imprisoned  here. 
He  dies  tomorrow,  and  I  come  to  bear 
His  dying  message  to  his  home. 

[79] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


SOLDIER. 

My  orders  are  most  positive ;  you  cannot. 

BOOTH  {giving  pocketbook) . 

Then  this  is  yours ;  'tis  all  I  have  on  earth  ; 
Checks  well  endorsed  and  on  your  greatest  banks; 
'Twill  make  you  rich  and  bless  your  friends! 

SOLDIER. 

No ;  not  for  all  the  money  in  New  York. 

BOOTH. 

Soldier,  were  you  once  dandled  on  a  father's  knee? 
Perhaps  a  sister  graced  your  happy  home. 
My  friend's  poor  sister  now,  by  yonder  wave, 
Is  weeping,  praying,  dying  of  her  grief ; 
And  you  will  let  me  pass  to  speak  one  word. 

SOLDIER. 

My  orders  are  most  positive;  you  cannot. 

BOOTH. 

Soldier,  have  you  a  mother,  brother,  child  ? 
Hast  any  friend  or  home,  wife  or  betrothed, 
To  whom  your  soul  in  death  would  turn  ? 

SOLDIER. 

Nor  wife,  nor  children,  scarce  a  friend  on  earth  ; 
Perhaps  one  heart,  but  only  one,  regards  me. 
That  one  far  away  and  in  the  ruined  South. 
My  poor  mother  pined  away  and  died 
When  I  was  wounded  at  Manassas  Junction, 
Or,  rather,  died  embracing  me  when  I  returned; 
And  never  while  life  lasts  can  I  forget 
A  Rebel  enemy  who  passed  me  through  their  lines, 
T'  embrace  that  mother  on  the  bed  of  death. 

BOOTH. 

Behold  in  me  a  pilgrim  from  that  land, 
Whose  generous  son  was  thus  your  friend ! 


[80] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Dying,  you  say,  she  pressed  you  to  her  heart, 

To  that  same  breast  on  which  your  cheek  reclined, 

Dimpled  and  painted  by  the  life  she  gave. 

Soldier,  suppose  that  you  were  doomed  to  die, 

And  that  a  comrade  came  the  night  before 

To  bear  your  dying  message  to  that  mother. 

Take  this  with  all — a  fortune  in  your  grasp ! 

SOLDIER. 

Take  back  your  purse;  I  would  not  have  it;  pass. 
This  very  night  the  watchword  is  "Manassas!" 

Walks  off. 

BOOTH. 

O  generous  Nature,  thou  didst  urge  my  prayer, 

And  rugged  hearts,  whose  adamantine  walls 

Had  scorned  the  thunder  from  a  thousand  battlements, 

Grow  weak  as  infancy  at  thy  sweet  voice !  £  -^ 

SCENE  III — BealVs  prison — Beall  sleeping — Enter  Booth. 

O  generous  Nature,  here  we  meet  again, 

For  thou  dost  soothe  and  hold  him  to  thy  heart ; 

Sweet  mother  of  us  all,  keep  horrid  dreams, 

And  the  dread  to  come,  far  from  his  lonely  pillow ; 

O  nerve  him  for  the  conflict ;  and  his  soul 

Cast  in  thy  noblest  and  most  generous  mold, 

O  gently  lead  it  to  the  sacrifice! 

No  flowers  to  deck  the  victims  brow ;  but  Fame 

Shall  hang  her  golden  locks  about  his  temples, 

While  beauty,  far  away,  in  Southern  clime, 

Shall  render  tears  unbidden  to  his  name ; 

And  e'en  the  generous  foeman  shall  exclaim, 

"Alas !  for  so  much  manly  beauty  lost, 

"Such  bravery  and  worth  to  perish  in  the  storm!" 

See!  see!  he  smiles. 

BEALL. 

Laughing  in  sleep. 

Run,  children,  run  to  the  other  side. 

Come,  Lilly,  let  me  see — O  you  little  rogue, 

You've  slipped  the  bandage  from  your  eye.  T 

Laughs. 

[81] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


BOOTH. 

'Tis  blind-man's  buff.     He  plays  it  with  his  sister, 
And  dreams  have  borne  him  back  to  childhood's  shore. 
How  strangely  do  they  mix  our  lives! 
Now  roses  mount  upon  his  pallid  cheek, 
Like  flowers  that  hang  upon  a  precipice, 
Unconscious  of  the  gulf  beneath.    See!  see! 

Beall  starts  and  trembles. 
Some  great  o'ermastering  thought  convulses  him ; 
Perhaps  the  gibbet  rises  to  his  view; 
I'll  call  him  from  the  dreadful  dream. 

BEALL. 

Run,  children,  run ;  th'  Indians  are  coming  down. 
I  see  Tecumsie  with  ten  thousand  braves; 

0  run,  my  pretty  Lilly — run!  run!  run! 
I'll  hold  them  back  until  you  reach  the  barn ! 
Back!  back!  you  painted  villains — back,  I  say! 

Springing  from  his  couch,  grappling  for  his  sword. 
Where — where  is  my  sword  ? 

BOOTH. 

Your  sword,  brave  boy,  surrendered  to  the  foe, 
Now  leaves  you  quite  defenseless ;  take  this  dagger ! 

Throws  cloak  over  him. 

BEALL. 

Why,  Booth!  how  came  you  here? 

Embracing  him. 

BOOTH. 

1  come  to  take  your  place;  have  won  the  guard. 
The  password  is  "Manassas."    Take  this  dagger,  fly ; 
For  I  would  kiss  the  bony  cheeks  of  Death 

To  give  you  back  once  more  to  life  and  liberty. 

BEALL. 

Et  tu  Brute!  And  has  it  come  to  this  ? 
Am  I  so  poor,  so  fallen  in  your  esteem! 
What,  skulk  from  death  and  leave  my  friend  to  die  ? 


[82] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


BOOTH. 

Forgive  me — no— 'tis  only  for  a  moment — fly! 
Go  meet  your  sister,  weeping  in  yon  cove, 
Close  to  the  rock  and  nearest  to  the  wave. 
Be  quick  and  go,  for  you  can  soon  return ; 
Her  lantern  rocks  on  yonder  dancing  boat, 
To  guide  your  feet  and  beckons  you  to  come. 

BEALL. 

Ten  thousand  thanks,  my  good,  brave  friend ! 
That  will  I  do ;  keep  ward  'till  my  return, 
And  prove  yourself  a  soldier  at  my  post. 
Once  more  liberty — to  the  fresh  air  and  skies, 
To  thee,  sweet  Lilly,  for  one  parting  word ! 
One  message  to  my  home,  then  all  farewell ! 

BOOTH. 

The  last  of  Paradise  for  him  on  earth ! 
'Twas  a  great  folly  so  to  wound  his  soul ; 
And  yet,  to  take  his  place  and  bid  them  fire, 
Had  been  Ambition's  loftiest  pinnacle, 
My  heart's  supreme  delight.     But  let  it  pass; 
The  future  still  is  mine,  and  they  shall  know  it, 
For  I  will  strike  them  in  their  lecherous  beds, 
Or  midst  their  revelries  and  pleasures  smiling; 
With  all  their  sins  full  cankered  to  the  green ; 
To  start  a  wrinkle  on  the  nose  of  Hell ! 

SCENE  IV — On  seashore — Lilly  with  lantern  by  a  shed  and 
great  rocks — Boat  anchored. 

LILLY. 

O  I  do  tremble  so !    Perhaps  those  signs 

In  Heaven  and  earth  which  fright  the  chirping  birds 

And  moaning  beasts  just  ere  an  earthquake's  shock 

Are  given  to  human  souls  before  calamity! 

But  let  it  come — earthquake,  tempest — I 

Have  cast  in  Heaven  the  anchor  of  my  bark. 

In  Heaven  shall  find  it  opened  to  a  cross, 

There  twined  wi'  flowers  and  brighter  than  the  sun ! 

[83] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Yet,  O  he  was  so  brave  and  manly  beautiful, 

So  far  above  the  common  sort  of  men, 

That  when  he  passed  all  hearts  did  give  him  reverence; 

Such  gentleness  and  power  in  concert  joined, 

Such  majesty  in  one  exalted  mind, 

He  seemed  an  angel  stooping  to  mankind! 

Heavens!  joy!  joy!     But  do  I  dream?     'Tis  he,  'tis  he! 

Enter  Lieutenant  Beall — Flies  to  his  arms,  weeping 
But  how  is  this?    Your  pardon  was  revoked! 

Kisses  her. 

BEALL. 

Alas!  no  pardon  granted  me.     I  come, 
Paroled  in  honor  by  a  generous  friend, 
To  send  a  parting  message  to  our  home, 
And  first  to  her,  my  mother.     O  my  mother! 
Kiss  me  again !    Tell  her  that  I  died  a  soldier. 
O  tell  her,  for  her  bruised  heart's  consolation, 
That  with  all  my  waywardness  no  mortal  sin 
Was  left  unshriven  on  my  parting  soul  ; 
That  never  did  I  shed  one  drop  of  blood 
But  in  the  fair  and  open  field  of  war. 
To  my  superiors  have  obedient  been, 
And  condescending  to  the  poorest  soldier; 
To  prisoners  in  my  power  was  always  kind — 
More  gentle  to  the  fallen  foe  than  friends; 
Surrendered  when  no  valor  could  avail, 
And  died,  at  last,  as  she  would  have  me  die! 

Taking  locket  from  his  neck. 
This  give  to  her  whose  precious  name  it  bears, 
And  say  that  I  will  wear  her  image  in  my  soul. 

Kisses  her,  parting. 
Farewell  forever,  love!  Lilly  swoons. 

Farewell,  farewell! 

Exit. 

LILLY. 

Recovering. 
Gone,  gone ;  O  never  to  return  ;  gone,  gone ! 
Ye  Heavens,  let  your  loudest  thunders  peal! 
In  thunders,  O  ye  saints — thou  Queen  of  Heaven, 
O  plead  with  God  that  He  may  strike  them  down  ; 
Plead  that  von  sun  m2y  never  rise  again, 

[84] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Too  glorious  signal  for  a  deed  so  foul! 
Let  darkness  swallow  Heaven  and  earth, 
While  Calvary  groans  again  and  angels  weep! 


Kneels. 
Enter  Booth. 


BOOTH. 

Come,  Lilly,  we  must  hasten  from  this  place. 

LILLY. 

In  such  an  hour  as  this,  I  dare  not  stir. 
Down,  down  upon  your  knees! 

BOOTH. 

Your  brother  sends  by  me  his  last  request ; 
'Tis  that  you  hasten  from  this  place. 

LILLY. 

O  tell  me  his  sweet  words — speak  them  again. 

BOOTH. 


Aside. 


Should  she  remain  and  hear  the  signal  gun, 

'Twould  drive  her  to  madness.     Let  me  try  once  more! 

To  Lilly. 
My  life  is  now  at  stake  and  we  must  fly ; 
The  baited  dogs  are  on  my  track — come,  come! 

Seizes  her  hand,  when  she  snatches  away  and  runs  up  the  rocks. 

LILLY. 

See,  see,  the  sun  is  rising 

Covers  her  eyes — Dead  March  in  the  distance — Long  silence — 
Signal  gun  fires — Booth  supports  her — BealVs  ghost  in  Con- 
federate uniform — Blood  on  his  face. 

LILLY    (as  Ophelia). 

I  knew  that  you  would  come  to  me  again, 

You  pretty  bloodhound!     Come,  come,  catch  the  fox! 

Foxes  have  holes  and  birds  have  nests — ha!  ha!  ha! 

And  we  poor  Southern  birds* — come,  let's  fly. 

The  mocking-birds  await  us  and  magnolias  throw 

[85] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Their  censers  up  to  Heaven — ha!  ha!  ha! 
Those  grand  old  priests,  in  temples  of  the  sun ! 
Come,  come,  my  love,  go  home!  go  home!  go  home! 

Weeps — Kneels  to  Beall — Booth  weeping. 
Don't  stay  from  mama,  boy;  home!  home!  home! 

SCENE      V — Confederate      camp — Moonlight— Enter     BealYs 

ghost. 

GHOST. 

Once  more  my  spirit  walks  Virginia's  hills, 
Once  more  thy  voices,  O  my  native  land, 
More  musical  than  waves,  and  winds  salute  me! 
Ye  warblers  of  the  night,  sweet  mocking-birds, 
Long  had  I  lost  your  melodies,  unknown 
To  yonder  frozen  clime;  but  now  we  meet  again; 
Ye  whipporwills,  my  childhood's  wonder,  hail ! 
Sing  on,  O  sing  a  requiem  to  the  past. 
Hail,  hail,  Confederate  camp!     Ye  heroes,  hail! 
My  tentless  comrades,  sleeping  on  the  ground  ; 
Undaunted  Lee,  a  falling  nation's  pride! 
Confederate  arms,  still  gleaming  unsubdued, 
My  native  land,  ye  hills  and  mountains,  hail!  Exit. 

Enter  lame  Confederate  sentinel. 

SENTINEL. 

I'd  rather  fight  all  day  than  keep  this  watch; 
What  if  I  fall  asleep,  they  could  but  shoot  me. 
No,  by  Jupiter,  I'll  be  a  soldier  to  the  last; 
But  my  wound  pains  me ;  let  me  ride  this  log. 

Straddles  a  log. 
Who  goes  there!     Halt!  halt! 

VOICE. 

Hello,  Johnny  Reb,  will  you  give  me  some  tobacco  for  a  drink? 

SENTINEL. 

Yes,  if  you'll  tote  fair — come  in. 

Enter  Union  scout. 

SCOUT. 

Do  you  fellows  get  anything  to  eat  down  here  ? 

[86] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


SENTINEL. 
Yes,  plenty  of  it.    Where's  your  whisky? 

SCOUT. 


Here. 


Gives  canteen  and  sentinel  drinks. 


SENTINEL. 

That's  what  old  Stonewall  used  to  take  from  Banks. 

Gives  it. 
Drinks  again. 


Here's  your  tobacco. 
Now  go. 


SCOUT. 


Going. 


And  you  go  to  sleep,  you  damned  old  Reb. 

SENTINEL. 

Hold  on  ;  what's  your  hurry? 

SCOUT. 

I  have  to  travel  twenty  miles  before  daylight. 
Good-night,  good-night. 

SENTINEL. 

By  Jupiter,  he'  a  good  soldier; 

That's  the  kind  of  powder  I  like  to  smell. 


Drinks  again. 


Smells. 


It  makes  me  feel  good  all  over — ha!  ha!  ha! 

Drinks — Business — Stretches  out  and  sleeps. 
Enter  ghost  of  Be  all. 

GHOST. 

O  that  this  hollow  tree  of  spirit  life 
Could  put  once  more  its  antlered  branches  on, 
Then  would  I  make  them  knock  at  Heaven's  gate 
To  call  sweet  mercy  down  to  my  poor  sister. 
How  did  she  flutter,  like  a  bird  upon  the  ground 
Smit  by  the  gun  that  told  my  doom.  Exit. 

Enter  Captain  Powell. 

[87] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


POWELL. 
What,  soldier,  sleeping  at  your  post? 

SENTINEL. 

Staggering. 
Why,  Captain  Powell — Thornton  Powell — yes. 
Well,  Cap.,  you  see  how  it  is — my  leg  hurts  me ; 
I  was  wounded,  you  know,  at  Fredericksburg, 
And  it  got  so  stiff  that  I  had  to  lie  down. 

POWELL. 

Your  legs  both  seem  limber  enough  now. 

SENTINEL. 

Now,  none  of  your  game — now  Cap. — now  Thornton/ — 
Thor — Thor — Thornton  Powell,  I'm  your  friend, 
And  if  you  have  me  shot — ha!  ha!  ha! 
You'll  disgrace  our  family.     Ha!  ha!  ha! 

POWELL. 

You're  too  brave  a  soldier  to  be  shot ; 
Go;  I'll  not  report  you;  go  back  to  camp 
And  let  me  take  your  watch. 

SENTINEL. 

Going. 
That's  all  right — ha!  ha!  ha!     O  you're  the  soldier  for  me. 

Exit. 

Staggers  back. 
Let  me  tell  you,  Captain,  either  I  saw 
Lieutenant  Beall  tonight  or  dreamt  it. 
He  came  up  in  Confederate  gray,  a  rope 
Around  his  neck,  and  talked  about  his  sister. 
Cap.,  I  do  believe  he  was  drunk — ha!  ha!  ha! 
Dream  or  reality — it  makes  me  skittish — ha!  ha!  ha! 

Whistles — Looks  down  road — Exit. 
Damn'd  if  I'm  afraid  of  ghosts. 

Whistles  Dixie. 

[38  1 


MADAME       SURRATT 


POWELL. 

Alas!  it  might  be  true,  for  he  was  captured, 

And  the  villains  may  have  shot  him, 

Hanged  him,  for  aught  we  know — infernal  thieves! 

But,  as  the  world  goes  nowadays,  'tis  questioned 

Whether  they  who  live  or  they  who  die  are  happiest. 

Re-enter  drunken  soldier. 

POWELL. 

Go,  go  to  camp! 

SENTINEL. 

Well,  Cap.,  I  came  back  to  tell  you:    Now,  Cap., 

I'm  not  so  drunk,  for  down  in  yonder  shade, 

In  the  white  blossoms  of  a  dogwood  tree, 

That  same  gray  form  appeared;  and,  more  than  that, 

A  Yankee  scout  was  here  tonight, 

And  I  came  back  to  put  you  on  your  guard. 

The  Villain  might  be  prowling  for  your  scalp. 

Good  night — O  I  am  not  afraid  of  ghosts! 

Whistles  and  staggers  off. 
Exit. 

POWELL. 

The  full,  round  orb  of  yon  descending  moon 

Looks  down  upon  the  grave  of  Stonewall  Jackson ; 

Perhaps  the  grave  of  these  Confederate  States. 

Hark,  the  sad  notes  of  the  lonely  whippoorwill ! 

Like  some  sweet  poet  of  the  Sunny  South, 

He  flings  himself  despairing  on  the  ground 

To  sing  thy  requiem.    O  my  native  land ! 

The  very  air  seems  heavy  and  I  sometimes  think 

That  we  mysterious  mortals  leap  the  wall, 

Reared  by  a  jealous  future,  'gainst  our  noses. 

For  aught  I  know,  the  universe  itself, 

All  peopled  and  piled  up,  looks  down  upon  us, 

As  does  the  audience  of  a  great  theater, 

Which  tears  out  one  wall  from  every  edifice 

To  peep  in  on  our  most  domestic  scenes. 

For  aught  I  know,  spirits  might  robe  themselves 

When  great  events  come  trooping  on  the  heels  of  time. 

Who  goes  there!     Halt!  halt!     'Twas  like  a  man, 

[89] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Yet  vanished  in  an  instant;  and,  by  Heaven, 
'Twas  very  like  some  one  whom  I  have  seen ! 
"In  such  a  place,  in  such  an  hour  as  this, 
"Descending  spirits  have  conversed  with  men 
"And  told  the  secrets  of  the  dread  unknown." 
See!  see!     It  comes  again!     Halt,  soldier,  halt! 
But  one  step  more  and  on  thy  peril — halt ! 

Ghost  waves  him  back. 
It  halts,  but  seems  to  motion  with  its  hand, 
As  tho*  'twould  bid  me  hold  my  fire — then  speak! 

Ghost  advances. 
Whate'er  thou  art,  if  sentinel  or  spy, 
Whether  messenger  from  Heaven  or  Hell,    , 
Whate'er  thy  mission,  spy  or  devil — halt! 

Fires. 
Yet  there  it  stands — stone  still — struck  by  my  ball; 
For  blood  comes  oozing  from  its  gray  Confederate  coat — 
Blotches  of  blood  on  that  familiar  face ! 
Would  God  I  had  not  fired!    Speak,  soldier,  speak! 

GHOST. 

When  nations  fall  their  crash  wakes  up  the  dead, 

And  I  have  left  my  grave  for  a  short  term 

To  walk  my  native  hills,  and  on  the  crumbling  edge 

Of  these  Confederate  States,  a  crater  vast, 

Would  point  you  to  a  gulf  most  horrible. 

Ere  yet  yon  moon  proclaim  the  paschal  feast, 

And  on  the  day  that  Christ  was  crucified, 

The  powers  of  Hell  shall  blacken  all  this  land ; 

For  dignitaries  great  shall  roll  in  blood. 

While  Ruin  drives  her  ebon  car  abroad, 

Not  womanhood,  nor  helpless  age, 

Nor  infancy,  can  walk  this  world  secure. 

But  ere  that  hour,  I  come  to  ask  one  boon, 

The  friendship  of  a  soldier  for  a  soldier's  sister. 

POWELL. 

Whate'er  thou  wilt;  my  life  is  in  thy  hand; 

But  tell  me,  thou  impalpable,  august, 

And  most  mysterious  thing — say  what  thy  name? 


[90] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


And  what  the  great  event  you  prophesy? 
What  dignitaries  they  to  roll  in  blood, 
My  friends  or  foes? 

GHOST. 

Both  friends  and  foes,  commingling  in  the  storm, 
Shall  fly  like  leaves  of  autumn  to  yon  Gulf 
And  leave  both  Federal  and  Confederate  States 
Beheaded  and  their  trunks  a  gory  mass, 
Thrown  at  the  foot  of  Calvary,  on  that  day 
Which  saw  the  crucifixion.    Ask  no  more. 

POWELL. 

But  tell  me  who  art  thou,  and  who  thy  sister? 

GHOST. 

1  was  thy  comrade — once  Lieutenant  Beall, 
But  now  his  helpless  ghost,  without  my  sword, 
Or  I  would  strike  and  strike  them  to  the  last ; 
Disarmed,  defenseless,  prisoner  of  war, 
Hanged  in  cold  blood,  in  hearing  of  my  sister, 
Who  by  the  signal  gun  was  so  afflicted 
That  reason  tottered  from  its  throne.    Her  mind, 
That  fairest  palace  of  the  world,  fell  down ; 
And  now  a  maniac,  lost  and  wretched  in  her  woe, 
She  seeks  my  grave  and  often  calls  for  you. 
Go,  friend,  console  her,  if  you  can,  and  Heaven 
May  graciously  restore  the  fairest  flower 
That  ever  offered  incense  to  the  skies. 
Farewell!  farewell! 

POWELL. 

Stay,  stay.    Where  shall  I  find  her  ?    Speak  1 

GHOST. 

Go  to  the  tomb  of  Washington.    His  grave 
She  decks  with  flowers,  and  bids  him  make 
A  little  room  for  me.    Farewell !  farewell ! 

[91] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


POWELL. 


Then  all  is  lost ! 

My  home,  my  love,  my  country  gone! 

Heaven  and  earth,  farewell! 


Enter  sentinel. 


SENTINEL. 


What,  soldier;  no  watchword? 
You're  a  pretty  sentinel. 

POWELL. 

Stand  to  your  watch,  soldier.    Good  night,  good  night! 

SENTINEL. 

But  I  heard  a  gun  fire  hereabouts. 

POWELL. 

'Twas  I  that  fired.    Good  night,  good  night! 

SENTINEL. 

But  stay.    What  was  it?    Why  did  you  fire? 

POWELL. 

'Twas  very  strange,  a  most  prodigious  thing; 
'Twas  monstrous,  most  astonishing!     Good  night! 

SENTINEL. 


Exit. 


By  Hoakie,  he  must  have  seen  a  ghost, 
For  soldiers  have  told  me — men  of  good  faith — 
That  they  had  often  seen  old   Stonewall  Jackson 
Walking  among  these  tents,  straight  as  an  arrow 
And  looking  very  sad ;  but  his  last  words  were, 
"Let's  cross  over  the  river  and  rest  in  the  shade" ; 
So  if  the  grand  old  Captain  comes  back  now 
He  must  have  changed  his  mind. 

Whmistles  Dixie. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  ghosts — no,  not  I. 

Whistles. 
There's  no  such  thing  as  ghosts,  but  what  our  fancies  make. 

Whistles. 

[92] 


MADAME      SURRA  T  T 


I'd  rather  fight  a  regiment  than  meet  one. 

Whistles. 
What  a  cloud  is  rising — is  it  rain  ? 

Rain  begins  to  fall. 
Rain,  rain,  by  Jubiter!     It  hides  the  moon. 
O  I'm  not  afraid,  moonlight  or  dark. 
Whoo — oo — oo — goes  there?    Halt!  halt! 
But  b — b — bt  what's  the  password  ? 

VOICE. 
"By  the  waters  of  Babylon." 

SENTINEL. 

Well,  that  11  do ;  come  in  out  of  the  rain ; 
But  you  are  d — d  slow  a  getting  it  up. 

Enter  General  Lee. 
What,  General  Lee?    Why,  General,  I  catch  my  breath. 
A  moment  more  and  you,  as  Stonewall  Jackson, 
Would  have  fallen  by  your  own  soldier. 

GEN.    LEE. 

Had  it  been  so,  perhaps  it  were  as  well. 

SENTINEL. 

What,  General,  no  bad  news  I  trust! 

GEN.    LEE. 

No ;  but  I  have  walked  about  the  camp  all  night 

And  watched  my  tentless  soldiers  on  the  ground, 

All  worn  and  weary  with  incessant  fight, 

Tho'  born  to  luxury,  in  beds  of  down. 

Time  hastens  on^  and  with  tomorrow's  sun 

The  last  battle  shall  be  lost  or  won. 

Keep  to  your  watch ;  be  ready  for  the  fight ; 

Perhaps  we'll   meet  no  more.     Good   night!   good   night! 

Exit. 


[93] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


SCENE  V\—Wood— Thunder  and  lightning— X ear  Mt.  Ver- 
non~~-Enter  Payne — Storms  and  lightning. 

PAYNE. 

No  road,  no  path,  no  light  but  the  storm's  lightning. 

Alas!  how  many  nursed  in  downy  beds, 

In  palaces  and  princely  homes,  now  cry, 

"No  road,  no  path,  no  light  but  the  storm's  lightning!" 

No  voice  to  cheer  them  and  no  taper's  ray, 

With  long  and  level  beams,  from  home. 

How  many  a  boy  with  down  upon  his  cheek 

Stands  sentinel  tonight  and  braves  this  storm ! 

Would  God  that  I  could  lay  me  down ; 

But  I  cannot — dare  not — even  now. 

This  war  of  Heaven  may  beat  upon  her  head. 

Mt.  Vernon  must  be  hereabout.     Halloo!  halloo! 

Enter  Beall's  ghost — Payne  drawing  his  sword. 

GHOST. 

Make  haste  to  follow,  for  my  time  is  short  ; 

One  hour  remains  for  me  to  walk  this  earth, 

And  then  the  fires  of  yonder  coiled  Heaven 

Shall  spit  upon  me  with  their  sulphurous  storms, 

Till  boyhood's  follies  and  my  grosser  sins 

Shall  all  be  purged  away.    One  hour  remains ; 

Then  follow  thou  till  this  Confederate  gray 

Dissolves    in    morning    light.  Exeunt. 

SCENE  VII — They  go  around  the  scenes — Mt.  Vernon  opens 
and  reveals  Lilly  scattering  flowers  and  singing — Storm  passed 
and  moon  going  down — Tableaux  to  suit  the  song. 

LILLY  beall   (singing). 

I. 

Now  an  angel  flies  from  the  field  of  blood, 

All  glorious,  to  yonder  mound ; 

Mount  Vernon  groans;  'tis  the  great  and  the  good, 

Old  Virginia's  heroes  around ; 

Lee's  father  sheds  a  tear,  while  he  smiles  on  his  son, 

And  Stonewall  is  kneeling  by  a  moss-covered  gun, 

And  Freedom  lies  pale  on  the  ground. 

[94] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


II. 

Yon  moon  sinks  down  over  land  and  wave, 

And  the  fallen  lie  cold  in  her  beams; 

Not  a  funeral  gun-— no  honors  for  the  brave ; 

But  each  brow  with  glory  gleams ; 

Nor  the  hooting  of  the  owl  over  yonder  hill, 

Nor  the  melancholy  song  of  the  whippoorwill, 

Can  disturb  their  glorious  dreams. 

Whippoorwill,  when  sinks  the  day, 

Whippoorwill,  in  your  twilight  gray, 

Whippoorwill,  when  the  hermits  pray, 

We'll  pray  for  the  souls  far  away. 

Enter  ghost  and  Powell. 

LILLY. 

O  my  pretty  boy,  come  home,  come  home! 
And  you,  my  pretty  Powell,  come  home,  come  home. 
As   they   approach,   she   etudes   them,   scattering   flowers   before 

them. 

Exeunt. 
SCENE   VII — Madame  Surratt's   house — Parlor — Enter  John 
Brown  and  Dr.  Mary  and  hide  under  curtains — Booth  stand- 
ing by  a  window. 

BOOTH. 

Standing  at  window. 
'Tis  now  the  midnight  hour,  and  all  abroad 
Spirits  of  darkness  beetle  on  the  air, 
Some  to  gay  follies  lead  the  thoughtless  crowd, 
And  some  go  dancing  down  to  dens  of  shame, 
While  other  devils,  older  than  the  flood, 
Sail  out  to  dip  their  batlike  wings  in  blood. 
Avaunt,  ye  devils!  leave  me  all  alone. 
With  whom?     Myself,  a  murderer!     God  forbid! 
More  than  ten  thousand  times  have  I  relented, 
And,  making  up  this  cast,  would  fain  have  spared 
That  poor  buffoon — worthiest  of  all  his  cabinet  ; 
For,  like  the  thistle  flower,  true  goodness  wears 
A  regiment  of  spears  to  cry,  "Hold  off!" 
And  but  for  this  I  would  have  slain  him  thrice. 
"If  it  were  done  when  'tis  done,  then  'twere  well 

[9S1 


MADAME       SURRATT 


"It  were  done  quickly.     If  the  assassination 
"Could  trammel  up  the  consequence,  and  catch, 
"With  his  surcease,  success — besides,  this  Duncan 
"Hath  borne  his  faculties  so  meek,  hath  been 
"So  clear  in  his  great  office,  that  his  virtues 
"Will  plead  like  angels,  trumpet  tongued,  'gainst 
"The  deep  damnation  of  his  taking  off; 
"And  Pity,  like  a  naked,  new-born  babe, 
"Striding  the  blast,  or  Heaven's  cherubim,  horsed 
"Upon  the  sightless  couriers  of  the  air, 
Shall  blow  the  horrid  deed  in  every  eye." 

Enter  John  Brown  s  ghost, 

JOHN   BROWN. 

Beware !   Beware ! 

Aye,  had  I  but  sworn  as  you  have  sworn, 

Nor  Heaven,  nor  earth,  nor  Hell  could  hold  me  back, 

Nor  fright  me  from  my  purpose. 

Had  I  but  sworn  to  do't, 

I'd  pluck  my  gray-haired  sire  from  the  gate  of  Heaven 

And  drag  him  thro  the  sulphurous  fumes  of  Hell, 

Choking  with  brimstone  firebrands  the  voice 

That  whilom  called  me  son,  still  beating  down 

His  withered  hands,  lest  Heaven  should  heed  his  prayer. 

You  swore  to  me  amidst  the  lightning's  glare, 

And  Hell's  deep  cavern  echoed  back  your  vow! 

That  bargain  for  your  soul  was  clinched  in  Hell, 

And  all  the  powers  of  Heaven  did  ratify. 

My  will,  now  thine,  my  bidding  thou  shalt  do ; 

Then  go;  prepare  thee  for  thy  sulphurous  bed. 

Put  shards  upon  thee  like  the  beetle's  mail ; 

Harden  thy  soul  wi'  crime;  smear't  wi'  blood, 

And  so  prepare  thee  for  thy  home  of  fire  Exit. 

BOOTH. 

Poor,  helpless  mortals  we      Once  sunk  to  crime, 
Down  do  we  fall  with  devils  in  their  slime. 
And  then  grow  palsied,  helpless  for  all  time! 
What  tho'  we  struggle  back  and  cry,  "Begone!" 
They  whisper  to  our  souls,  "March  on,  march  on!" 

Enter  John  Surratt,  high-top  boots  and  spattered  with   mud, 
riding  whip,  and  in  rollicking  mood. 

[96] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


BOOTH. 

Welcome,  Surratt ;  most  welcome  at  this  hour, 
For  I  need  your  strong  arm  and  desperate  will. 

SURRATT. 

Well,  Booth,  I've  found  the  very  place  to  cage  him, 
Fit  for  a  President  and  secret  as  the  grave. 

BOOTH. 

Well,  what  of  it?    Where?    What  then? 

SURRATT. 

Th'  old  Vanness  Mansion,  on  the  river  bank. 

South  of  the  White  House,  garnished  for  the  bird. 

Its  deep  wine  cellars  make  a  lovely  cage, 

And  three  strong  men  could  drag  him  to  its  doors. 

Once  being  captured,  we  could  hold  him  there 

Till  Mosby  and  his  men  came  up  the  river  bank. 

O  th'  old  gorilla — ha!  ha!  ha!     What  a  splendid  specimen- 

ha!  ha!  ha! 
How  he  himself  would  laugh  at  such  a  joke. 
'Twould  be  a  funny  anecdote  for  him  to  tell 
Jeff.  Davis  when  we  get  to  Richmond — ha !  ha !  ha ! 

BOOTH. 

What  if  we  put  him  in  a  cellar  six  feet  long! 
A  coffin  for  his  cage  and  worms  for  company! 

SURRATT. 

Great  God!     You're  talking  like  a  madman!     Heavens! 
Lincoln  is  not  a  bad  man,  though  led  by  demagogues, 
For  he  means  well  and  has  a  good,  kind  heart. 

BOOTH. 

Those  purblind  sisters,  trundling  at  their  wheel, 
Have  put  the  scissors  to  his  navel  chord. 
You,  too,  must  help  them  turn ;  for,  being  in 
And  now  suspected,  how  could  you  escape? 
Go,  throw  away  your  catechism,  boy. 
Come,  take  to  tragedy  and  be  a  man. 

[97] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


There's  something  grand  and  beautiful  in  tragedy. 

Think  of  it,  John — just  think — Good  Friday,  John. 

Earth's  greatest  tragedy  was  acted  on  this  day, 

And  the  whole  world  repeats  it  to  the  sun, 

On  myriad  altars  rising  to  salute  him! 

O  glorious  tragedy,  that  cannot  end 

Till  Heaven's  lightnings  set  the  stage  on  fire ; 

Angels,  and  patriarchs,  and  saints  for  auditors, 

And  the  Lamb  slain  stands  up  amid  the  falling  stars, 

King  of  all  Kings  and  brighter  than  the  sun. 

0  that  I,  too,  could  act  in  such  a  play! 

SURRATT. 

In  that  play  must  we  all  act? 

BOOTH. 

Why,  John,  to  kill  a  common  man — a  thing, 
A  President — that's  a  mere  episode! 
Go  throw  away  your  catechism,  boy! 

SURRATT. 

1  love  the  South,  but  love  still  more 

The  catechism  which  my  mother  taught  me ; 
Nor  less  on  this  day,  saddest  of  all  days ! 
True,  I  would  take  him  prisoner  of  war ; 
But  further  not  a  step  will  follow  you. 
Release  me,  then,  and  let  me  fly  to  Canada, 
Not  to  betray  you,  for  I  scorn  a  traitor, 
But  t'  escape  your  toils  and  save  my  life 

BOOTH. 

You  prattle  like  a  child ;  come,  be  a  man ; 
Give  up  your  faith  and  strike  for  liberty. 

SURRATT. 

My  faith?    Ah,  little  do  you  understand  it! 

That  unpretending,  simple,  childlike  faith ! 

It  scatters  blossoms  even  upon  the  grave 

And  robes  the  very  air  with  immortality! 

Bad  as  I  am  and  foolish  in  my  weakness, 

To  do  ten  thousand  things,  when  suddenly  assailed, 

[98  1 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Which  faith  reproves  and  memory  weeps  upon. 

Yet  wilfully  I  would  not  yield  one  precept 

Of  the  grand  old  faith  my  mother  taught  me 

For  yon  Confederate  States  and  all  the  world  besides! 

Exit. 

BOOTH. 

There's  a  divinity  in  that  boy's  dream 

Which  boastful  reasons  cannot  emulate — 

Inscrutable,  mysterious,  divine! 

More  splendid  than  the  rainbow,  tempest-born ; 

Born  of  the  sun,  begot  in  falling  tears, 

In  tears  that  fell  about  the  gate  of  Paradise — 

On  Calvary — alas!  wherever  man  sojourns! 

The  rainbow,  but  a  symbol  of  that  dream, 

For  aught  I  know,  the  shadow  of  that  faith. 

O  that  I  could  fling  these  knotted  serpents 

Up  to  the  stars  or  down  to  Hell ! 

Could  I  but  see  their  fiery  flakes 

All  trailing  down  the  sky, 

Then  would  I  run  to  Calvary  and  cling 

To  God ;  but  that  is  past  and  all  is  lost !  lost !  lost ! 

Window  curtains  drop  and  conceal  him — John  Brown  s  ghost 
crosses  the  stage. 

JOHN    BROWN. 

Poor,  struggling  insect,  now  we  part! 

My  web  is  woven  round  your  heart  ; 

My  work  well  done,  to  Hell  begone ! 

And  tell  them  there  John  Brown  is  marching  on. 

Exit. 
Enter  Herold  and  Atzerot. 

HEROLD. 


Come,  Atzerot,  tell  me,  what  do 
You  think  of  this  whole  business? 

ATZEROT. 

Vel,  if  de  shentlemens  will  pay  de 
Monish,  I  can  cut  de  wires,  and  den 
Dey  can  all  runs  away. 

[99] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


HEROLD. 

But  what  if  they  should  kill  the  whole 
Cabinet,  would  that  save  the  South? 

ATZEROT. 

Ef  dey  kills  one,  dot  makes  no  good ; 

But  if  dey  kills  all,  den  I  say  ya, 

For  mit  de  killin'  Europe  stop  de  war  and 

De  South  go  free.    Dot's  it,  dot's  it,  my  baby 

Slapping  him  on  the  shoulder — ha!  ha!  ha 

HEROLD. 

I  could  understand  it  better  if  Booth  would  talk  to  us  and 
explain  it.  Sometimes  I  think  he  must  be  crazy.  Damn'd  if 
I  do  anything  but  hold  his  horse  at  the  theater.  He  intends, 
I  think,  to  kill  them  all  in  the  midst  of  the  play;  for  this  eve- 
ning, at  Spotswood's  Hotel,  he  sent  a  note  up  to  Johnson,  and 
directly  after  told  me  to  stand  in  the  rear  of  the  theater,  at  nine 
o'clock,  to  hold  his  horse.  I  asked  him  a  question  and  he  left 
me  gaping  like  a  fool. 

ATZEROT. 

Seward  never  goes  to  theater. 

HEROLD. 

Then  who  kills  him? 

HEROLD. 

Vy,  Payne,  dot  big  vellow  from  de  South ; 

He   kill    Seward;   den,   you   see,    I    cuts   all    de   wires   mit   de 
telegraph. 

HEROLD. 

Cut  the  wires?     Why,  you  were  to  kill  Johnson. 

ATZEROT. 

O  ya,  ya!  Enter  Payne. 

PAYNE. 

What  of  Booth  ?    He  promised  to  be  here. 

[100  1 


MADAME      SURRATT 


HEROLD. 

Don't  you  think  him  crazy?    What  good 
Would  come  of  it,  even  if  his  plans  succeeded  ? 

PAYNE. 

He  has  assurances  from  Canada, 

From  men  well  posted  in  the  current  of  events, 

That  intervention  soon  would  follow 

And  the  South  be  saved.    His  vengeance,  too, 

With  mine,  cries  out  for  blood.     Our  ruined  homes, 

Our  native  land,  and  every  sacred  memory 

Shout  to  the  patriot  soul,  "Revenge!  revenge!" 

HEROLD. 

How  could  we  justify  such  wholesale  slaughter? 

PAYNE. 

By  precedent.    Full  thirty  kings  in  France, 
In  Germany  a  score,  and  in  Great  Britain  ten, 
Th'  assassin's  dagger  punched  down  to  Hell  ; 
From  Brutus,  of  th'  olden  time,  when  Tarquin, 
Reeking  with  Lucretia's  shame,  fell  headlong, 
To  the  younger  Brutus,  red  with  Caesar's  blood  ; 
From  him  to  beastly  Heliogabalus ; 
And  all  those  emperors  slain  amidst  their  pleasures ; 
Such  was  the  last  resort  of  Freedom. 
O'ertopping  insolence  and  hired  minions  drive 
The  people  to  despair ;  then  lightning  leaps 
Upon  the  patriot's  blade  and  tyrants  fall. 

Enter  Booth. 

BOOTH. 

They  call  this  day  Good  Friday.    Good!     Most  excellent! 

Beware  of  treachery,  beware ;  for  soon 

The  Judas  of  our  tribes  may  hear  from  me 

That  curse  of  Richard — hear  it  now: 

"When  I  was  mortal  mine  anointed  body 

"By  you  was  punched  full  of  deadly  holes; 

"Think  on  that  hour  and  me,  despair,  and  die." 

Should  one  arm  falter  or  one  heart  fail, 

Not  one  of  us  would  live  to  tell  the  tale !  Exit . 

[101] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


HEROLD. 

Now,  what  does  all  that  mean  ?    Don't 
You  see  that  the  man's  crazy? 

PAYNE. 

By  no  means. 

Warns  you  and  Atzerot,  suspects  your  courage, 
Knowing  full  well  that  should  our  venture  fail 
Through  craft,  or  cowardice,  or  treachery, 
The  South  must  then  be  lost  forever. 


LILLY. 


Enter  Lilly. 


Ah,  ah !  I  thought  to  find  you  here, 
And  jumped  over  the  moon  from  yon  asylum. 
All  the  stars  ran  after  me  and  cried, 
"Come  back,  sweet  Lilly,  come  and  marry  us!" 
"No,  no,  quoth  I";  first  come  and  fight 
With  Sisera  and  slay  mine  enemies; 
Then  will  I  wed  the  stars,  and  all 
Our  children  pretty  little  stars  and  flowers ! 
Stay,  stay;  I'll  sing  to  Stonewall  Jackson. 
There,  there  he  goes,  poor  Stonewall  Jackson! 
Yon  moon  sinks  down  over  Stonewall's  grave, 
And  the  soldiers  are  sleeping  around ; 
No  tents  are  spread,  no  cover  for  the  brave, 
But  they  sleep  on  Freedom's  ground. 
'Nor  the  hooting  of  the  owl  over  yonder  hill, 
Nor  the  melancholy  song  of  the  whippoorwill, 
Can  disturb  their  slumbers  sound ;  Spoken. 

But  Lee  could  wake  them,  and  his  voice 

Was  like  a  trumpet  on  the  morning  air.  Sing. 

Rise,  rise,  brave  boys,  once  more  for  the  fight, 
'Tis  the  last  to  be  lost  or  won. 

Then  arm,  brave  boys,  by  the  dawning  of  the  light, 
And  charge  to  the  foeman's  gun! 

Tho'  few  and  bleeding  now,  we  must  win  for  the  right 
Or  sleep  upon  the  field  with  Stonewall  tonight ; 
'Tis  the  last  to  be  lost  or  won. 
Once  more,  brave  boys,  tho'  the  shot  fall  fast 
And  your  comrades  are  lying  low, 

[102] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Hark!  hark!  you  shout  and  the  trumpet  blast, 

'Tis  Stonewall  charging  below. 

He  charges  up  the  hill      See,  see  how  they  run ! 

He  mounts  upon  the  fort  and  captures  every  gun ; 

And  now  he  turns  them  on  the  foe! 

Once  more,  brave  boys,  and  the  battle  shall  be  won, 

Tho'  the  millions  are  pressing  around  ; 

Lo,  Grant  comes  up  at  the  setting  of  the  sun, 

And  a  thousand  thunders  resound. 

Ah!  few  and  bleeding  now — 'tis  done,  'tis  done! 

The  banner  of  the  brave  goes  down  with  the  sun 

And  trails  at  last  on  the  ground! 

Enter  nurses  from  asylum, 
O  ye  are  my  brave  keepers.    I  am  glad  to  see  ye. 
Have  you  come  to  my  wedding  with  the  stars? 

DR.  NICHOLS. 


Yes,  Lilly,  the  stars  are  all  in  waiting. 
Come,  we  must  go  without  delay. 

LILLY. 

But  will  they  fight  with  Sisera  to  slay  mine  enemies? 
And  you,  my  Payne,  my  pretty  Payne,  will  you  fight  too? 

DR.    NICHOLS. 

Yes ;  all  will  fight — are  waiting  for  the  war. 
Come  let  us  hence — haste!  haste! 

They  drag  her  out. 
Payne  in  agony  of  grief. 

HEROLD. 

By  Heavens,  she  was  a  splendid  girl ; 

But,  having  placed  her  in  th'  asylum, 

You  have  done  the  best  you  could — nay,  all 

That  could  be  done.    Come,  cheer  up  Payne ; 

Be  a  man.     I  know  it's  a  hard  case.     Cheer  up! 

Slaps  him  on  shoulder. 
O  that  the  lagging  hours  would  fly 
And  bring  me  to  the  tyrant's  bed, 
To  make  another  Robespierre,  broken-jawed 
And  cursing  as  he  plunges  into  Hell! 

[  103  ] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


His  curses  inarticulate,  himself  a  hell! 
His  guilty  heart  the  Hell  of  hells ! 

Enter  Booth, 

BOOTH. 

Come,  let's  be  going.    Each  one  to  his  post 

In  this  great  drama  to  be  played  with  tyrants ; 

For  when  they  fall  a  universal  strife, 

Like  Nature  fighting  in  the  womb  of  Time, 

Shall  heave  volcanoes  from  a  fiery  sea 

To  blast  us  all  or  make  our  country  free! 

Exeunt. 
Dr.  Mary  skipping  after  them. 

DR.   MARY. 

Ah,  ha!  I'll  have  his  head,  his  heart — ha!  ha! 

Exit. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I — Street — Dr.  Mary,  Conger  and  Baker  under  lamp- 
post in  Drumb  Show — Three  conspirators  pass  them. 

BAKER. 

Which  one's  Payne? 

DR.   MARY. 

That  desperate-looking  devil  with  a  slouched  hat. 

BAKER. 


And  that  one? 
That's  Atzerot. 
And  that  one? 

His  name  is  Herold. 


DR.  MARY. 

BAKER. 
DR.  MARY. 

CONGER. 


Did  you  not  say  that  Booth  was  with  them  ? 
Your  tale  don't  hang  together. 

DR.   MARY. 

Hang  together  or  not,  I  tell  you  truly; 
As  I  have  often  urged  before,  these  men 
Are  bent  on  mischief,  and  this  very  night 
You'll  find  that  I  have  told  the  truth. 
Come,  we  have  no  time  to  lose. 

Exeunt. 
SCENE    II — President's    Mansion — President    alone— -Room 

darkened. 

PRESIDENT. 

We  promised  to  attend  the  play  tonight, 

But  this  is  Good  Friday.     Heavens!  it  looks  badly! 

A  comedy  to  celebrate  the  Crucifixion ! 

Christ  to  be  mocked  and  spit  upon  once  more ; 

Buffoons  to  buffet  him!     Pontius  Pilate, 

[105] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Washing  his  hands  and  whining,  "1  am  innocent 

Of  the  blood  of  this  just  person!"    Yet  the  people, 

Eager  to  swell  the  pean  of  our  victories, 

Propose  a  grand  ovation  to  the  cabinet. 

O  how  their  brave  hands  will  clap! 

No,  no;  'twould  never  do  to  disappoint  them. 

But  where  now  are  the  hands  that  clapped  on  Calvary? 

There  was  one  there  who  could  not  clap  his  hands! 

Great  God !    He  made  the  thunder  clap ! 

Enter  Booth,  drawing  pistol. 

BOOTH. 

This  is  my  chance.    I  find  him  all  alone ! 

Most  kind   and  humorous,   dear,   good-natured   man! 

Alas !  poor  Yorick !  with  his  quips  and  quids, 

And  merriment,  and  anecdote,  Alas!  alas! 

Great  Caesar,  too,  was  merciful  and  kind ; 

But  Casca  held  his  gown  while  Brutus  punched  ; 

For  good  is  as  good  doth.    What  hast  thou  done? 

O  perjured  wretch — to  promise  him  a  pardon, 

Yet  break  that  promise  on  poor  Lilly's  heart! 

Thou  lying  tongue,  shall  I  not  pluck  thee  out? 

Thou  heart  of  rottenness  to  break  her  heart ! 

Shall  I  not  pierce  thee  with  requiting  steel  ? 

O  brain  accursed,  shall  I  not  punch  thee  thro'  ? 

O  cursed  fiend,  to  blast  my  land  of  flowers ; 

To  slay  her  sons  and  drive  her  daughters  to  despair! 

Behold  her  fallen !     Behold  her  fallen  cross, 

No  longer  flashing  thro'  the  battle  storm ; 

But  flat  upon  the  ground,  her  form  outstretched 

Upon  it,  mocked,  despised,  and  spit  upon! 

O  time  most  fortunate,  most  opportune! 

To  find  him  all  alone,  alone  with  Death ! 

Revenge  and  hate  come  flapping  on  the  air ; 

Their  dragon  wings  make  twilight,  and  the  stage 

Is  aptly  darkened  for  effect. 

Aims  pistol  and  then  lowers  it. 
But  where  my  audience?     Where  th'  unborn  applause? 

Puts  pistol  down. 
Bah !  such  a  play  would  fall  like  vinted  wine, 
Insipid  and  without  a  beaded  gallery 

[106] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


To  clap  the  climax  of  a  bloody  gash. 

Those  other  vultures,  too,  marked  out  for  slaughter 

Would  all  fly  away  at  the  first  smell  of  powder. 

Oh,  no;  I'll  first  arm  him;  then,  forewarned, 

He,  too,  can  join  the  cast  with  preparation. 

Puts    up    his   pistol   and  advances. 
We'll  meet  again  at  ten  o'clock,  Your  Excellence. 
The  public  all  expect  you.    Now  prepare ; 
For  you  must  play  your  part  in  this  great  drama. 
Ten  o'clock,  Your  Excellence!     Remember,  ten  o'clock! 

LINCOLN. 

Yes,  tell  them  we  shall  keep  our  promise ; 
But,  Booth,  I  thought  it  nine  o'clock. 

BOOTH. 

Aye,  nine  and  half-past  nine ;  but  ten  o'clock, 
The  climax  of  the  play,  will  punch  thro'  Heaven 
Like  some  volcano  spouting  to  the  sky 
And  drawing  to  it  every  heart  and  eye ! 
Remember,  ten  o'clock! 

LINCOLN. 

Yes,  I'll  remember;  we  shall  all  be  there. 


Exit  Booth. 


'Twas  on  this  very  day  our  Saviour  died ; 

And  something  warns  me — psha!  presentiments 

Are  more  absurd  than  dreams ;  and  yet  one  dream 

I  never  had  but  that  some  great  event 

Came  fast  upon  't.     That  dream  I  dreamt  last  night. 

A  stately  ship  was  sailing  'gainst  the  wind 

And  struck  a  rock.    My  wife  cried  out 

And,  waking,  vowed  that  she  had  dreamt  the  same. 

Then,  going  to  the  window,  I  beheld 

On  the  heights  of  Arlington  a  shooting  star, 

Red  as  the  setting  sun,  and  a  huge  owl, 

As  tho'  some  warning  hand  were  laid  upon  me, 

A  something  strange  that  comes  to  press  me  down. 

For  aught  I  know,  my  mother  might  return 

To  lay  once  more  her  hand  upon  my  head ; 

For  well  do  I  remember  those  sweet  hands, 

[107] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


And  how  they  fell,  like  gentle  dews  from  Heaven, 

When  on  her  patient  lap  my  prayer  was  breathed. 

This  night,  for  aught  I  know,  may  be  the  last ; 

And  she  who  loved  me  then  must  love  me  still. 

Wise  fools  may  ridicule  such  thoughts, 

But  mysteries  never  yet  by  them  explored 

Do  rock  our  cradles  first,  then  dig  our  graves ! 

The  whence  we  came,  the  why  we  linger  here ; 

And  whither,  when  our  spirits  take  eternal  flight — 

All  this,  and  more  than  volumes  could  express, 

They  know  not ;  neither  can  they  tell  why  dreams, 

Like  couriers,  come  upon  the  midnight  air 

To  bring  us  messages,  then  go  their  way. 

One  thing  I  know,  that  something  makes  me  sad. 

Rings  a  bell — Enter  servant. 
Albert  brings  in  the  children,  Tad  and  Fred. 

Exit  servant. 
This  very  day  some  eighteen  hundred  years  ago 
The  sun  grew  dark  and  graves  gave  up  their  dead. 
At  such  a  time  I  have  no  heart  for  comedy ; 
And  yet  our  promise  must  be  kept. 

Enter  Major  Lincoln  and   Tad. 
Come,  Taddy — tell  me  what  is  Easter  Day? 

TAD. 

Our  Saviour  rose  on  Easter  Day.    O,  papa, 

Won't  you  buy  us  some  Easter  eggs? 

I'm  going  to  the  Capitol  that  day. 

Say,  papa,  will  you  buy  us  some  Easter  eggs? 

LINCOLN. 

Yes,  if  you'll  tell  me  why  they  call  this  Good  Friday. 

TAD. 

Because  our  Saviour  died  today;  but,  papa, 
Did  he  die  sure  'enough  this  very  day  ? 
But  Mr.  Beecher  says  he  didn't. 

LINCOLN. 

Yes,  my  son,  our  Saviour  died  on  Friday. 


Enter  Colfax. 


Well,  Colfax,  they  say  that  Grant  has  gone. 

[108] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


COLFAX. 

Gone,  Your  Excellence,  to  Burlington,  New  Jersey. 

Quite  unexpectedly,  for  Mrs.  Grant. 

He  begged  me  to  excuse  him  to  Your  Excellence ; 

Also  to  Laura  Kean,  for  he  had  promised 

To  be  present  at  her  play  tonight. 

LINCOLN. 

I  do  wish  we  had  not  promised. 

COLFAX. 

You  are  expected,  with  your  whole  cabinet— 
At  least  the  morning  papers  have  it  so — 
And  the  whole  city  will  be  on  tiptoe 
To  greet  Your  Excellence. 

LINCOLN. 

I  wish  I  had  not  promised  them. 


Enter  Mrs.  Lincoln. 


MRS.   LINCOLN. 


Shall  we  go  to  the  theater  or  not? 
Come,  Mr.  Colfax,  cheer  him  up; 
He  has  the  blues. 

LINCOLN. 

Well,  get  ready;  I'll  go.  Bands  playing. 

Great  shouting  without — Lincoln  and  all  go  to  the  window. 
Lincoln  reading  a  dispatch  to  the  people. 
Mobile,  Ala.,  April  14,   1865. 
Dick  Taylor  has  surrendered.     Our 
Soldiers  are  in  good  spirits,  and  the 
Rebels  have  abandoned  every  hope. 

E.  R.  Canby. 
Great   shouting. 

LINCOLN. 

This  was  their  last  army.    The  South  surrenders 
And  the  Union  is  restored! 

Shouting. 
Let  us  remember  tonight  my  old  motto : 

[109] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Band  plays. 


"Malice  to  none,  but  charity  for  all!" 
Come,  boys,  play  us  Dixie,  and  then  give  us 
The  Star-Spangled  Banner! 

MRS.    LINCOLN. 

Well,  it  is  nearly  our  time. 

TAD    (to   Lincoln). 
What  does  mother  mean  by  "our  time"? 

LINCOLN. 

O  we  promised  to  be  there  by  nine  o'clock ; 
That's  what  your  mother  means,  my  boy ; 
But  there  are  times  in  all  our  lives 
Of  which  you  children  know  but  little. 
Our  Saviour  said  to  his  disciples  once, 
"My  hour  is  come,"  and  all  day  long  those  words 
Keep  ringing  in  my  ear ;  'twas  on  the  night 
Before  Good  Friday  and  about  this  hour. 
Come,  we  must  go;  'tis  nearly  9  o'clock. 


Exit. 


SCENE     III — Street    near    guard-house,     Washington — Clock 
strikes  ten — Sentinel  pacing. 

SENTINEL. 

Halt!    Who  goes  there?    Presents.  Enter  Conger. 

CONGER. 

Hold!  hold! 

SENTINEL. 

Why,  Conger,  you  should  have  given  the 
Password;  some  other  sentinel  might 
Have  shot  you. 

CONGER. 

I  knew  it  was  your  watch ;  besides, 
The  password  has  been  changed 
The  last  half-hour,  for  a  strange 

[110] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Rumor  is  afloat. 

Take  for  your  password  now  " Conspiracy." 

Have  you  seen  Baker? 

SENTINEL. 

No ;  not  tonight. 

CONGER. 

Nor  Dr.  Mary  Trotter! 

SENTINEL. 

No. 

CONGER. 

He  was  to  meet  me  here,  and  she  was  with  him. 

SENTINEL. 

What  was  the  rumor,  and  why  have  they 
Changed  the  password? 

CONGER. 

0  nothing,  nothing;  but  Baker  should 
Be  here.     I  sent  him  to  the  theater. 

SENTINEL. 

For  what? 

CONGER. 

Hush!  hush!  sh! 

Drums   beating — Shouts  in   the  distance. 
Hear  those  clattering  horses — how  they  run! 
The  drums  and  shouting — what  can  all  this  mean? 

Enter  Baker,  running. 

1  was  just  in  time  to  be  too  late. 
The  President  is  shot! 

CONGER. 

Great  God!     Killed? 

BAKER. 

Killed,  and  several  others  with  him.     I  left  in  the 
Confusion.     It  verified  the  last  report, 
And  all  that  Dr.  Mary  told  us. 

[Ill] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Wilkes  Booth  entered  the  President's  box ;  was  met  by  Major 
Rathborne,  who  stabbed  him  with  his  sword.  Booth  with  a 
dagger  struck  him  down,  shot  the  President,  wounded  several 
others,  and  sprang  from  the  box  down  to  the  stage,  waving  a 
bloody  knife  and  shouting,  "Sic  semper  tyrannis;  Virginia  is 
avenged!"  Then  something  about  Lieutenant  Beall;  but  the 
shrieks  of  the  women  drowned  his  voice.  In  leaping  from  the 
box  to  the  stage  he  seemed  to  break  his  leg,  for  it  gave  way 
every  step  and  his  boot  dragged  after  him. 

CONGER. 

What  course  did  he  take? 

BAKER. 


I  followed  close  upon  his  track;  saw 
Him  mount  a  horse  behind  the  theater. 
I  fired  three  times  and  must  have  hit  him. 


CONGER. 


Strike  the  telegraph ;  set  all  the  bells  to  ringing ; 
Call  every  man  to  arms! 

Bells   ring. 
Enter  Dr.  Mary  Trotter,  breathless. 


DR.   MARY. 


All  Hell  to  pay !    I  told  you  so ! 
Seward  is  killed — cut  all  to  pieces! 


CONGER. 

Heavens!    Was  he  there,  too?    Did  Booth 
Kill  both  ?    Was  he  at  the  theater  ? 

DR.   MARY. 

'Twas  at  his  house.    A  tall  man 
Cut  his  way  into  his  chamber ;  killed 
Fred  Seward  first.     I  saw  the  wound, 
The  dorsal  muscle  of  his  belly  cut  in  twain- 
A  cut  across  the  abdomen.    The  villain 
Knocked  down  other  men ;  then  sprang 
On  Seward  like  a  tiger ;  stabbed  him 
Six  times;  broke  his  jawbone  with 

[112] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


The  butt  of  his  pistol,  as  it  failed  to 

Fire;  cut  his  way  out,  mounted  a 

Horse — all  quicker  than  I've  been  telling 

You.      They    say    that   Johnson,    too,    and    several    others    have 

been  killed — all 
Hell  let  loose ! 

Cries   of  fire. 
Enter  number  of  police  and  soldiers. 

CONGER. 

'Tis  a  vast  conspiracy.    The  Rebels  are  upon  us! 

They've  set  the  town  on  fire ! 

Every  man  to  arms; 

Kill  every  Rebel  dog  you  meet, 

Whether  at  home  or  in  the  street ! 

Exeunt. 

SCENE    IV — Madame    Surratl's    house — Enter    Conger,    Dr. 
Mary,  soldiers,  and  Surratt. 

CONGER. 

Where  is  her  chamber  ? 

SERVANT. 

That,  sir. 
Open  the  door. 
Who's  there  ? 

BAKER. 

Open  the  door — surrender! 

MADAME    SURRATT. 


CONGER. 


MADAME  SURRATT. 


Knocking. 


Within. 


Kicks  it  open. 


Entering  in  nightgown. 
In  the  name  of  Heaven,  what  can  all  this  mean? 
How  dare  you,  man — not  man,  but  brute — how  dare  you 
Thus  to  insult  a  widow  in  her  bed  ? 

[113] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


BAKER. 

You'll  soon  have  a  warmer  bed  than  that. 

CONGER. 

Hell's  too  good  for  the  bitch.    Cut  her  down! 

Enter  Annie   Surratt. 
ANNIE. 


O  mother,  mother!  what  can  all  this  mean? 

You  mongrels,  blackguards!  out  of  this  house! 
How  dare  you  thus  insult  my  mother  ? 

CONGER. 

She's  arrested  for  the  murder  of  Mr.  Lincoln. 

BOTH. 


To  soldiers. 


Annie  and  mother. 


O  Heavens!    Heavens!!    Heavens!!! 


Annie  rushes  to  her  arms. 
ANNIE. 
O  mother!  mother  dear!  that  fatal  dream!  that  fatal  dream! 

MADAME    SURRATT. 

Soft,  soft,  my  child.    God's  will  be  done. 


Enter  soldier. 


SOLDIER. 

Seward  is  sinking  rapidly.    Frederick, 
His  son,  was  cut  across  the  belly, 
And  two  men  servants  wounded  mortally. 
Here's  a  description  of  the  murderer. 

CONGER. 

Take  this,  Baker ;  take  a  squad  of  men ; 

Scour  the  city ;  bring  him  in  ; 

By  Heavens,  we'll  hang  them  high  as  Haman. 

Come,  Madame,  tell  the  truth; 

Reveal  the  plot  and  I'll  secure  your  pardon. 

[114] 


Giving  paper. 


Exit  Baker. 


MADAME      SURRATT 


MADAME    SURRATT. 


I  knew  no  plot  that  looked  to  murder — none ! 

Re-enter  Baker  with  Powell,  covered  with  mud. 

BAKER. 

We  found  this  fellow  knocking  at  the  door  ; 
Alarmed  at  meeting  us  and  taken  by  surprise, 
He  said  that  he  had  come  to  dig  a  ditch. 

CONGER. 

For  whom? 

BAKER. 

For  Madame  Surratt. 

CONGER. 

To  Madame  Surratt. 
Do  you  know  this  man? 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

No,  sir ;  I  know  nothing  of  him  whatever ; 

Never  saw  the  man  before.     Cheer  up,  Annie ; 

God  sent  these  soldiers  to  protect  us. 

What  a  Providence!     The  ruffian  might  have  killed  us  both. 

ANNIE. 

Aside. 
O  mother,  that  is  Powell ! 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

What?    Powell? 

ANNIE. 

Yes,  Thornton  Powell — Payne. 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

Ton  my  word,  I  do  believe  it  is. 

Officers  searching  him. 

CONGER. 

Reading  a  note  taken  from  Payne's  pocket. 
My  dear  Captain,  we  expect  you  by  four  o'clock; 
Have  a  message  from  my  son  John. 
Be  sure  to  come.  m.  surratt. 

[115] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


DR.  MARY. 

Do  you  remember  the  note  from  her 

To  Booth,  found  on  his  table?    Ah!  ha! 

You  said  it  was  nothing.     Now  you  see. 

Th'  occipital  and  genital  bones — aha! 

I  told  you  they  would  generate.     Ha!  ha!  ha! 

CONGER. 

To  Madame  Surratt. 
And  so  you  never  saw  this  man  before. 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

I  did  not  know  him  in  the  dark; 

That  mud  upon  his  face  disguised  him  more ; 

Ton  the  honor  of  a  lady,  I  did  not  know  him! 

CONGER. 

0  I  guess  not.    Come,  my  pretty  cutthroat, 
How  came  your  hands  so  soft? 

Indeed,  you  are  a  dainty  ditcher. 

PAYNE. 

1  am  no  ditcher ;  told  your  bloodhounds 
At  the  door  that  I  came  to  dig  a  ditch, 
And  I  have  dug  it  for  my  mortal  foes ! 

CONGER. 

What  do  you  know  of  this  woman  ? 
What's  your  name? 

PAYNE. 

My  name  is  what  my  father  gave  me — 

A  name  well  known  in  patriotic  song — 

And  you  may  call  it,  if  so  please  you,  Payne; 

For  this  ordeal  is  a  painful  one, 

Not  for  ntyself,  but  for  this  generous  lady, 

Whose  hospitalities  I  once  enjoyed, 

And  which,  by  accident,  I  now  abuse. 

My  horse  had  thrown  me,  just  across  the  bridge, 

And  I  returned  for  shelter  to  her  house; 

But  more,  to  get  a  pass  hence  to  her  farm, 

On  pretext  of  employment  there,  to  reach  our  lines. 

[116] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


CONGER. 
What  lines? 

PAYNE. 


Confederate  lines,  of  course. 

Soldiers  advancing  with  bayonets,  threatening. 


CONGER. 


Hold !  hold !    Await  my  orders. 

This  woman,  is  she  one  of  your  conspirators? 

PAYNE. 

This  lady  is  a  most  generous  soul, 

Thro'  whom  I  hoped  to  get  the  pass; 

But,  as  the  babe  unborn,  is  she  most  innocent. 

CONGER. 

Innocent  of  what? 

PAYNE. 

Of  what?    And  do  you  think  to  trap  me?     Fool! 

Soldiers  about  to  bayonet  him. 
Back,  villains,  if  you  wish  to  know  what  I  have  done ! 

CONGER. 

Stand  back,  soldiers,  and  await  my  orders ; 
He  wishes  to  confess. 

PAYNE. 

But  not  from  fear  of  death  or  hope  of  pardon ; 

I  scorn  alike  your  menace  and  your  mercy ; 

To  vindicate  this  lady,  I  proclaim, 

And  hurl  it  on  your  pointed  bayonets, 

That,  all  without  her  knowledge  or  connirance, 

I  slew  the  dog,  your  Seward,  in  his  bed. 

Soldiers  start  at  him. 

CONGER. 

Hold!  hold!    Let  him  confess. 


PAYNE. 

'Twas  I,  and  I  alone,  that  gave  his  blood 
To  that  great  ocean,  shed  from  better  veins, 

[117] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Which  he  had  poured  upon  the  ground. 

Some  men,  grown  fat  wi'  power,  forget 

That  they  are  mortal ;  and,  themselves  secure, 

Send  you  soldiers,  like  cattle,  to  the  shambles. 

Then  if  a  patriot  bares  his  arm  to  strike, 

All  eyes  wall  up  to  Heaven  and  foojs  shout  murder. 

Hell  shouts  "murder,"  too,  for  millions  they  had  slain ; 

But  Nemesis  hath  been  abroad  tonight! 

'Twas  I,  and  I  alone,  that  slew  the  tyrant. 

CONGER. 

Having  escaped  so  far  beyond  the  bridge, 
Wherefore  return  to  seek  this  woman's  house? 

PAYNE. 

For  her  sake,  and  hers  alone,  I  deign  to  answer  you ; 

Then  hear  the  truth  and  learn  her  innocence. 

A  Rebel,  undisguised,  she  always  gave 

Her  hospitality  to  true  Confederates. 

Well  knowing  this,  I  came  to  ask  employment, 

Forsooth,  upon  her  farm,  to  pass  your  lines, 

Expecting  her  to  get  the  proper  pass. 

CONGER. 

And  would  she  play  into  your  hands? 

PAYNE. 

Doubtless  to  aid  a  soldier  in  distress ; 
But  had  she  been  a  party  to  our  plot, 
Would  I,  a  sane  man,  have  sought  her  house? 
None  but  an  idiot  could  have  ventured  so! 
Her  innocence  my  own  destruction,  for  I  came 
To  ask  employment,  as  I  told  you, 
Only  a  pretext  to  elude  your  guards ; 
But  that  fatality,  which  seems  to  follow  blood, 
Engaged  her  innocence  to  trap  me  thus. 

CONGER. 

Then  wherefore  fly,  or  why  disguise  your  face  with  mud  ? 

[118] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


PAYNE. 

You  lie ;  I  never  fled ;  but,  as  a  soldier, 

Went  to  report  me  at  the  common  rendezvous, 

And  when  your  watchful  guards  had  intercepted  me, 

And  when  my  horse,  ere  I  had  reached  it,  fell, 

And  left  me  powerless  to  attain  the  spot. 

Still  rejoicing  that  the  tyrants  had  been  slain, 

I  placed  my  ear  upon  the  muddy  ground 

To  hear  the  shrieks  of  their  infernal  souls, 

Landing  in  Hell.    Then  strike  me,  villains,  strike! 

Great    confusion — Soldiers    dash    at    him — Payne    snatches   a 
sword — Exeunt,  fighting. 

SCENE  IV— Mt.  Vernon— Moonlight— Enter  Booth. 
BOOTH. 

All  hail,  Mt.  Vernon.    Freedom's  holiest  shrine! 

More  than  a  Mecca  thou  to  earth's  bowed  millions! 

O  sacred  mound,  and  you  ye  skies  that  clasp  it, 

Bend  down,  ye  heavens,  that  kiss  my  native  land, 

Blue-domed  and  beautiful !    Once  more  look  down 

And  clasp  the  ashes  of  my  blasted  heart ! 

O  look  upon  me  with  your  soft  blue  eyes 

And  judge  me  kindly.    Judge  my  cruel  foes ! 

As  Hannibal  who  struck  for  Carthage,  but  in  vain ; 

As  Brutus  when  in  vain  he  struck  th'  ambitious  Caesar ; 

As  Cromwell  when  he  slew  the  guilty  Charles ; 

As  Henry  when  he  roused  Virginia's  wrath, 

So  I  have  struck  the  tyrant,  and  would  wake 

The  land  of  Washington  to  guard  his  dust ! 

O  sacred  shade  of  him  who  trampled  on  a  crown 

Offered  by  sycophants,  arise  and  speak! 

If  ever  spirits  in  the  dusky  shades  return, 

Or  when  the  torn  elements  in  fiery  combat 

Shake  heaven  and  earth,  or  when  devoted  nations 

Do  tremble  and  dissolve,  then  hear  my  prayer. 

Amidst  th'  upheaving  of  these  mighty  States, 

Immortal  Washington,  come  forth!  come  forth! 

Ghosts  of  Washington  and  of  other  heroes,  as  in  Act  1,  Scene  II. 

[119] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


WASHINGTON. 

Infatuated  and  unhappy  man! 

Already  Abel  hath  been  here  to  tell  the  tale. 

He  brought  his  wounds  for  me  to  bind  them  up, 

And  piteously  complaining  thro'  eternity, 

Reveals  to  trembling  ghosts  his  agonizing  grief. 

Cut  off  by  your  abortive  act,  he  sees 

A  host  of  northmen  gathering  up  their  strength, 

Like  Judas  bent  upon  the  scent  of  gold. 

To  make  a  war  more  dire  than  that  surceased ! 

But  for  your  tragic  deed,  Abel  had  brought 

A  sacrifice  of  corn  and  wine  and  oil 

To  stay  the  maddening  flood  and  save  your  country ! 

BOOTH. 

O  useless,  useless,  worse  than  useless,  all  my  work! 
Deceived  by  cowards  and  by  traitors  foiled, 
.My  vast  conspiracy  now  dwindles  down 
To  one  poor  victim,  while  my  foes  survive ! 
To  take  off  only  one,  and  he  the  best, 
Could  bring  no  benedictions  to  my  native  land ; 
And  yet,  had  I  as  many  hands  as  wrongs, 
As  many  hearts,  and  firm  as  this  one  proved, 
The  whole  cabinet  had  fallen  at  my  feet, 
While  over  head  the  Southern  cross  had  waived 
My  name  immortal  and  my  country  free! 

Lincoln  s  Ghost  enters  bloody. 
Booth  hides  his  face. 
LINCOLN. 

Your  deadly  ball,  shot  through  my  skull, 

Went  through  the  South  as  well  and  pierced  her  heart. 

Now,  driven  to  despair,  she  well  might  covet 

This  earthly  smell  of  coffins  and  of  bones 

Which  I,  shut  out  from  day  and  doomed  to  snuff. 

Had  you  but  left  me  still  the  scented  flowers, 

Your  flowers  in  the  South  had  bloomed  afresh, 

Savannas  would  have  yielded  golden  fruits 

And  fiery  blasts  return  to  peaceful  songs, 

A  happy  people  had  rejoiced  in  Union ; 

Your  statesmen,  too,  had  then  returned  to  Washington, 

[120] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


But  not  for  punishment.    My  motto  was, 

"Malice  to  none,  but  charity  for  all!" 

Then  fly,  unhappy  man,  fly  from  yourself, 

For  vain  your  flight  from  them  who  loved  me  well  ; 

Ten  thousand  swords  are  now  upon  your  track, 

And  like  a  fiery  tempest  sweep  the  world. 

Repent  and  be  you  washed  in  Jesus'  blood, 

Or  soon  we'll  meet  again  in  sulphurous  flames, 

To  which  your  cruel  deed  consigns  me.    Go ! 

Go  cry  for  mercy  ere  it  be  too  late. 

Poor  man,  I  pity  you;  aye,  and  forgive  you,  too! 

BOOTH. 

Alas!  poor  soul,  thy  words,  like  sulphurous  fires, 
Consume  the  very  marrow  of  my  bones 
And  burn  into  my  heart — a  new-born  Hell ! 
O  pluck  it  out  and  cast  it  on  yon  tomb, 
A  vain  but  earnest  sacrifice  to  liberty. 

Ghost  going. 
Stay,  stay !  and  strike  me  if  thou  canst. 

0  stay  thou  gory  thing,  or  I  will  follow  thee ! 

Ghost  motions  him  back — Booth  following. 
Thou  canst  not  fright  me  back ;  I  fear  thee  not  ; 
Tho'  Heaven  should  thunder  "no"  and  Hell  gape  wide, 
Still  would  I  follow  thee!    O  world,  farewell! 
Foul  deeds  will  up ;  we  follow  them  to  Hell ! 

Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV — A  road — Enter  Conger  and  Baker  and  Soldiers. 

BAKER. 

Here  let  us  halt ;  for  though  we  be  upon  his  track, 
Our  men  are  weary  and  the  day  far  spent. 

1  doubt  if  we  are  on  his  track  at  all ; 

For  Herold  should  be  with  him,  and  our  guide 

Declares  this  man  to  be  alone. 

Perhaps  she  might  mistake  some  other  man. 

CONGER. 

What,  Dr.  Mary  not  know  Booth  ? 
'Twas  she  who  put  us  first  upon  his  track, 

[121] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


Brought  us  his  plans  an  hour  before  th'  assassination, 

And  ever  since  has  hung  upon  his  flight, 

As  vultures  following  up  the  wounded  deer. 

She  swears  she  saw  him  on  this  very  road, 

And  would  have  killed  him  but  her  gun  missed  fire. 

BAKER. 

Perhaps  her  heart  missed  fire,  for  once  she  loved 
The  villain ;  and  these  women  change  with  every  moon. 
Her  flood  of  hate  might  staunch  its  bloody  course, 
And  even  now  may  lure  us  from  his  track. 

CONGER. 

O  never  do  you  fret;  I  know  'twas  he. 
She  swears  she  saw  him  limping  up  yon  hill, 
Pale  from  exhaustion,  and  his  broken  leg 
Trailing  behind,  without  a  splint  to  brace  it. 
Doubtless,  from  pain,  he  tore  the  splints  away. 
A  hundred  thousand  dollars  the  reward ! 

BAKER. 

Had  Mary  got  it — heavens!  the  boys 
Would  now  be  crazy  for  her. 

CONGER. 

Crazy  for  a  bag  of  bones. 

BAKER. 

Ten  thousand  men  have  scoured  the  Peninsula; 
But  if  we  get  him,  the  money  will  all  be  ours. 
By  heavens,  we  must  have  it !     Forward,  march ! 


Exeunt. 

SCENE  V — Scene  in  a  barn — Booth  and  Herold  on  the  hay  and 
fodder  with  a  lantern. 

BOOTH. 

Go  back,  my  faithful  boy,  to  yonder  house. 
Bring  me  some  water,  for  I  parch  with  thirst ; 
My  wound  keeps  up  a  fever  and  my  eyes 

[122] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Are  almost  bursting  from  their  sockets. 

There,  take  that  money ;  get  some  brandy,  too ; 

The  people  here  are  kind,  but  very  poor. 

Force  them  to  take  the  change  or  leave  it  at  their  door ! 

HEROLD. 

I  know  that  they  are  close  upon  us  now. 
Can  you  not  go  farther? 

BOOTH. 

No,  'tis  impossible ;  I  must  have  rest. 
Go  quickly  and  return. 

Exit  Herold. 
Yon  clamorous  cock,  impatient  of  the  dawn, 
Stretches  his  neck  to  pip  the  coming  morrow ; 
So  they  would  have  me  stand  a  tiptoe,  too, 
To  pip  that  mightier  globe — eternity! 
But  I  will  disappoint  them,  not  as  Brutus, 
Thieflike,  breaking  into  my  mother's  casket — no! 
But  like  the  tiger  followed  to  his  den. 

Examines  his  carbine. 
First  let  me  shoot  these  loads  off  to  prepare 
Fresh  supper  for  my  coming  guests. 

Fires  and  lays  it  down. 
Now  sleep,  my  last,  best,  only  friend ! 
But  when  I  call  the  up,  to  meet  them,  speak ! 
And  make  such  argument,  in  curt  replies, 
As  Randolph  would  have  made  their  Shermans. 
'Twas  hereabouts  that  Patrick  Henry's  tongue, 
Unconscious  of  its  prophecy,  proclaimed 
The  forging  of  our  chains — the  clash  of  arms 
Upon  the  northern  wind,  and  cried  indignantly, 
"I  care  not,  sirs,  what  other  men  may  choose, 
But  give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death !" 
Hark!  hark!  yon  lonely  whippoorwill  admonishes 
That  they  who  live  without  companionship 
Must  die  at  last  on  some  deserted  heather, 
Forgotten  e'en  by  those  who  listened  to  their  songs. 
O  that  I  had  his  broad,  flapping  wings  for  one  short  hour! 
I'd  waltz  my  broken  leg  thro'  Southern  skies 
And  sing  tonight  a  merrier  song  than  his. 

[123  1 


MADAME      SURRATT 


Alas !  such  thoughts  comport  not  with  his  song ; 
For,  lifted  to  the  skies,  he  never  sings, 
But  flat  upon  the  ground  and  in  the  darkness, 
As  I  am  now ;  for  Nature's  last  account 
Must  soon  be  audited  and  struck  against  me. 
These  eyes  no  more  shall  gaze  on  Beauty's  mold, 
On  the  bright  sun,  nor  on  my  native  land ; 
This  night  shall  close  them  with  her  sable  ringers 
In  that  sleep  which  morning  cannot  drive  away. 
I  know  it,  feel  it,  see  it  as  reality — 
Aye,  hear  it,  in  that  monitor  whose  voice 
Grows  audible  as  time  and  passion  cease. 
The  bloodhounds  could  not  miss  me  if  they  would, 
And  the  next  sun  shall  rise  upon  my  corpse. 
Let  them  come  on ;  I  will  not  budge,  but  fight, 
And  they  shall  perish  with  me. 

Enter  Her  old. 

HEROLD. 

Can  you  not  go  farther?    I'm  sure  they'll  find  us. 
A  man  just  passed  who  says  that  they  are  coming. 

BOOTH. 

No,  I  cannot;  my  leg  hurts  worse  and  worse. 
You  go,  but  as  for  me,  it  matters  not 
Whether  I  die  in  battle  or  on  beds  of  down. 

Sleeps — Herold  snivels  and  prays. 

SCENE  VI — Road  near  barn — Enter  Baker,  Conger,  Dr.  Mary, 

and  soldiers. 

DR.  MARY. 

The  barn  is  just  out  there — look  sharp! 

CONGER  (to  Baker). 

Surround  it  quickly. 

Exit  Baker,  with  a  squad  of  men. 
Booth's  voice  in  the  distance. 
List!  list!    I  know  the  villain's  voice. 


[124] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


BOOTH. 

"O  coward  conscience,  how  thou  dost  afflict  me! 
Give  me  another  horse;  bind  up  my  wound." 

DR.  MARY. 

Hush !  hush !  'tis  Richard,  acted  in  his  sleep ! 
Oft  have  I  heard  him  thus  upon  the  stage. 
'Tis  Richard's  dream,  that  horrid  dream  again. 
O  can  we  not  spare  him  ?    Yes,  spare  his  life, 
For  he  was  always  generous  and  brave ! 

Enter  soldiers. 
CONGER. 

Forward,  march! 

That  way,  soldiers — double  quick. 

Going. 
Exeunt  all  but  Dr.  Mary. 

DR.  MARY. 

Alas !  poor  woman's  heart — its  anger  flies 
And  turns  to  pity  when  the  false  one  dies. 

Exit. 

SCENE  VII — Scene  in  the  barn — Booth  and  Herold  sleeping. 

BOOTH. 

Take  down  that  banner;  take  it  down,  I  say! 

Once  did  I  love  it,  but  its  bloody  stripes 

Are  now  like  great  red  gashes  in  the  sky. 

"O  coward  conscience,  how  dost  thou  afflict  me! 

"Give  me  another  horse!  bind  up  my  wounds! 

"It  is  now  dread  midnight; 

"The  lights  burn  blue; 

"Cold,  flareful  drops  stand  on  my  trembling  flesh. 

"What  do  I  fear?    Myself!  there's  none  else  here. 

"Is  there  a  murderer  here?    No;  yes — I  am. 

"Then  fly!     What,  from  myself? 

"My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 

"And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale. 

"Murder!  stern  murder  in  the  direst  degree! 

"Throng  to  the  bar,  crying — guilty!  guilty! 

Leaps  up. 

[125] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


"Have  mercy,  Jesus!    Soft,  soft;  I  did  but  dream." 
Thank  God,  'twas  all  a  dream,  a  fearful  dream! 
Or,  rather,  Richard  played  upon  my  sleep. 
I  am  no  murderer,  but  the  South's  red  arm 
Thrown  up  in  anguish,  as  her  great  heart  broke! 
Then  let  me  perish  with  my  native  land, 
And  as  she  fell  on  Patrick  Henry's  grave, 
So  let  me  fall,  to  mingle  with  his  dust, 
Still  gasping  those  immortal  words: 
"Give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death !" 

Knocking  and  voice  without. 

VOICE. 

Open  this  door. 

Booth  and  Herold  listen — Booth  examines  carbine  and  pistol 
and  dagger. 

BOOTH. 


Loading. 


Dead  silence. 


I  should  have  loaded  it  before  we  slept. 

baker  (without). 
Surrender  or  I'll  set  the  barn  on  fire. 

Open  this  door.    Surrender  or  I'll  set  the 
Barn  on  fire.     Open,  I  say! 

BOOTH. 

Who  the  devil  are  you  ?    What  do  you  wish  ? 

BAKER. 

You  are  my  prisoner ;  fifty  men  surround  you ; 
There's  no  chance  for  escape;  be  quick;  surrender! 

Booth  levels  his  carbine  on  Baker. 

BOOTH. 

No,  I'll  spare  his  life,  for  that  he  comes  obedient 
To  the  same  tyrant  whose  heavy  hand  I  feel. 

BAKER. 

Come,  surrender  instantly ;  here  goes  the  match ; 
I'll  set  the  barn  on  fire.    Will  you  surrender? 

[126] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


BOOTH  (aside). 

I  have  but  one  load  in  my  carbine  yet. 

0  for  a  little  time! 

Aloud. 
This  is  a  hard  case,  Captain ;  give  us  a  few  moments 
For  consultation.  Loading  pistol. 

BAKER. 

I'll  give  you  just  three  minutes. 

BOOTH. 

That  will  be  sufficient. 

HEROLD. 

Let  us  give  up ;  we  have  no  chance ! 

BOOTH. 

And  you  desert  me  too?    Go!  coward,  go! 
Captain,  a  man  here  wishes  to  surrender. 

Herold  bolts  to  the  door,  crying  and  pleading. 

BAKER. 

Go  back  and  bring  your  arms. 

HEROLD. 

1  had  none,  sir. 

BAKER. 

Yes,  you  had,  damn  you !    You  had  a  carbine ! 

BOOTH. 

On  the  honor  of  a  gentleman,  he  had  no  arms ; 

They  are  all  mine; 

Draw  your  men  off  and  fight  me  one  by  one ! 

For  I  am  lame,  Captain ;  give  a  lame  man  a  chance. 

Draw  off  your  men  but  fifty  yards. 

BAKER. 

Your  time  is  almost  out. 

BOOTH. 

Then,  my  brave  boys,  prepare  a  stretcher  for  me. 
But,  Captain,  as  you  came  I  spared  your  life 
And  took  my  carbine  down.    Give  me  a  chance 

[127] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


And  fight  me  like  a  man — fight  one  by  one ; 
For  I  am  lame  and  cannot,  would  not,  run ! 

BAKER. 

We  didn't  come  to  fight,  but  to  take  a  murderer. 
The  time  is  out.    Will  you  surrender  ? 

BOOTH   (drawing  himself  up  with  desperation,  carbine  pointed). 

No,  damn  you!  no! 

Barn  blazes — Firing  on  all  sides. 

BOOTH   (having  his  carbine  poised  and  leaping  from  side  to  side, 
to  see  them). 

I'll  take  you  down  to  Hell  or  up  to  Heaven ; 
Cowards!  by  darkness  covered,  you  are  safe; 
Fire !  for  I  am  in  the  light  and  you  in  darkness. 
Fire!  for  I  just  spared  your  life — take  mine! 
Fire !  for  I  am  lame  and  one  to  fifty. 
'Twas  thus  you  fought  us  from  the  first, 
But  from  this  wave  of  fire,  with  plunging  shot, 
I'll  glut  the  maw  of  Hell!    Infernal  fiends! 

Staggers  back   mortally  wounded—Lincoln's  ghost  rises  and 
supports  him. 

LINCOLN. 

The  South  is  conquered  and  the  Union  saved. 
A  mad  but  generous  valor  led  them  on, 
And  there  was  greatness  in  their  fiery  zeal. 
Put  out  these  flames  and  let  us  all  forgive! 
My  motto  from  the  first  hath  been, 
Malice  to  none,  but  charity  for  all. 

SCENE  VIII — Street  in  Washington — Enter  citizen. 

FIRST  CITIZEN. 

There  they  come  with  Wirtz. 

SECOND  CITIZEN. 

Hell !  there's  a  rope  around  his  neck. 

[128] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


FIRST  CITIZEN. 

Yes,  damn  him ;  he  starved  our  boys  at  Andersonville. 

Enter  Beau  Hickman,  a  decayed  Virginia  gentleman,  whose 
gracious  manners  always  secured  him  friends  and  money. 

BEAU   HICKMAN. 

What's  to  pay  here  ?    What's  going  on  ? 

SECOND  CITIZEN. 

They  are  about  to  hang  Wirtz,  but 
It's  a  damn  shame  to  hang  him ! 
And  let  Lee  and  Jeff  Davis  go. 

BEAU   HICKMAN. 

No  one  should  be  hanged,  for  war  means  ruin; 

And,  now  that  war  is  over,  peace  means  peace. 

After  such  sufferings,  I  would  not  harm  a  fly. 

But,  more  than  that,  three  in  the  North 

For  every  captive  in  the  South  have  perished! 

The  North  had  everything  to  cherish  life, 

While  the  South  was  ruined  and  her  sons  starving. 

FIRST  CITIZEN. 

Martyrs,  I  suppose.    Was  Booth  a  martyr,  too? 
Shot  in  a  barn  and  murdered  like  a  dog! 

BEAU   HICKMAN. 

Alas!  poor  man!     I  knew  him  long  and  well, 

And  many  a  favor  has  he  granted  me ; 

Was  always  kind  when  other  friends  grew  cold, 

And  condescendingly  would  sometimes  play 

My  subject,  in  that  kingdom  of  my  own, 

Which  levied  contributions  on  mankind 

A  five ,  or  ten,  or  twenty  he  would  pay 

In  lowly  reverence  to  my  majesty. 

By  Heaven!  he  played  't  so  well,  I  thought  myself  a  king! 

Poor  Lincoln's  blood  must  ever  soil  his  fame ; 

But  still  dread  misfortunes  touch  my  heart, 

And  gratitude  can  palliate  his  crime. 

No  Christian  man  could  justify  the  deed — 

[129] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


The  fault  of  madness  rather  than  his  own. 
A  cold  and  creeping  horror  thrills  my  heart! 
And  sane,  his  generous  soul  had  shuddered,  too ; 
For  he  was  cast  in  Nature's  finest  mold. 
True  to  his  friendships ;  for  a  friend  would  die ; 
But  scorn'd  the  faithless  with  a  burning  hate ! 
With  love  inordinate,  he  may  have  loved 
The  very  mountains  of  his  native  land. 
Once  loved  the  Union  and  her  rainbow  flag ; 
He  loved  yon  Capitol  his  fathers  built; 
And  'gainst  the  tempest  vainly  struggled  there ; 
A  shattered  rainbow,  bending  to  its  dome, 
His  spirit  rose  and  vanished  in  the  storm ! 

Enter  policemen. 

POLICEMAN. 


Stand  back !  stand  back !  the  funeral  is  coming. 

FIRST  CITIZEN. 

It's  not  the  funeral,  boss;  they  are  only 
Moving  the  President's  remains; 
He's  off  for  Springfield. 

POLICEMAN. 

It's  all  the  same — funeral  or  no  funeral — 
Clear  the  streets! 

Enter  soldiers,  dragging  JVirtz,  rope  around  his  neck. 

Funeral  procession. 
Exeunt. 

SCENE  VI — President's  Mansion — President  Johnson  and  Gen- 
eral Mussy  drinking. 

JOHNSON. 

What  of  the  murderers? 

MUSSY. 

They've  all  been  tried  and  all  convicted. 

JOHNSON. 

What  proof  against  Atzerot? 

What  does  he  say  of  Madame  Surratt? 


[  130 


MADAME      SURRATT 


MUSSY. 
That  she  is  innocent. 

JOHNSON. 

And  Herold,  what  does  he  say  of  her? 

MUSSY. 

Protests  her  innocence ;  so  do  they  all  ; 
Yet  known  to  be  a  Rebel,  and  so  linked 
With  many  enterprises  of  disloyalty, 
No  power  but  your  own  could  save  her ; 
And  I  implore  Your  Excellency  to  interpose. 

JOHNSON. 

Why,  Mussy,  should  I  pardon  her,  the  mob 

Would  sweep  us  all  away. 

They  thirst  for  blood ;  their  vengeance  must  be  slaked 

Let  no  petition  come  to  me,  for  God's  sake! 

Keep  the  preachers  all  away  and  the  women. 

But  Payne,  of  course  he'll  swing. 

MUSSY. 

True,  he's  guilty ;  but  his  frank  confession 

And  defiant  port ;  his  fierce  encounter,  too, 

With  Seward's  sons,  and  then  his  desperate  fight, 

Disputing  every  inch  and  courting  death, 

Excites  the  sympathy  of  all  our  soldiers. 

I  saw  him  pass  the  market-house  in  chains, 

Like  Bryant's  hero,  even  more  sublime ; 

"Upon  the  market  place  he  stood, 

"A  man  of  giant  frame, 

"Amid  the  gathering  multitude, 

"That  shrank  to  hear  his  name ; 

"All  proud  of  step  and  firm  of  limb  ; 

"His  dark  eye  on  the  ground, 

"And  silently  they  gazed  on  him, 

"As  on  a  lion  bound." 

JOHNSON. 

That  reminds  me  of  some  po'try  I  made 
When  pushing  my  tailor's  goose  in  Tennessee  ; 
"If  you  want  the  gals  to  love, 

[131] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


"If  you  want  'em  to  love  you  true, 
"Come  down  to  Andy's  tailor  shop, 
"And  git  a  long-tail  blue" — ha!  ha!  ha! 


Enter  page. 


PAGE. 


A  lady,  please,  Your  Excellence,  at  the  door ; 

She  weeps  and  trembles ;  wrings  her  hands  and  moans 

So  piteously  we  could  not  keep  her  back. 

Annie  Surratt,  Your  Excellence. 

JOHNSON. 

For  God's  sake,  Mussy,  keep  them  all  away. 

Exit.     Enter  Annie  Surratt. 

MUSSY. 

You  cannot  see  His  Excellence. 

ANNIE. 

O  sir,  if  you  have  mercy  in  your  heart ; 

If  e'er  you  had  a  mother  and  remember 

How  she  loved  you  more  than  life  itself, 

And  how  when  sickness,  perilous,  dire, 

Had  laid  her  darling  at  the  gate  of  death, 

Forgetful  of  herself,  she  lingered  there, 

Supplied  your  wants  and  dried  your  parched  tongue ; 

How  by  your  couch  the  livelong  night  she  watched, 

And  watered  with  her  briny  tears  your  pillow, 

Oft  lifting  up  her  streaming  eyes  to  Heaven 

To  bring  all  Heaven  down  about  her  child, 

O  then  be  pitiful,  be  generous,  to  me! 

Implore  the  President  that  I  may  fall 

Upon  his  very  feet  to  plead  for  her, 

For  my  poor  mother,  O  so  sweet  and  innocent ! 

mussy  (aside). 

This  ordeal  is  most  terrible, 

And  I  can  scarce  go  through  't. 

Poor  girl !    Already  have  I  pled  in  vain. 

Sternly. 
It  is  impossible ;  you  cannot  see  him. 

[132] 


MADAME       SURRATT 


ANNIE. 

O  my  mother!  mother!  Exit,  sobbing. 

SCENE  VII — At  door  of  arsenal — Sentinels  pacing  to  and  fro- 
Enter  soldiers  and  preacher  with  Atzerot — Heavy  chains- 
Also  Her  old,  sniveling  and  sobbing. 

ATZEROT. 


O  shentlemens!  shentlemens! 
Take  ware !  take  ware !  O  pity  me ! 


FIRST  SOLDIER. 


I'll  preach  your  funeral.    Keep  a  stiff 
Upper  lip,  brother,  you'll  soon  be  in 
Heaven !    ;A11  you  rascals  go  up  happy ! 


ATZEROT. 


O  mine  Got!  mine  Got!  dat  is  not 
Vat  I  vants — O  mine  Got! 

They  thrust  him  in  prison  door — Thrust  Herold  in,  sobbing. 

FIRST  SOLDIER. 

Go  now,  first  to  your  blindfold  warning,  then  to  death  ; 
No  law's  delay,  no  lawyers  with  their  tricks, 
But  martial  law,  to  speed  the  felons'  doom ! 

SECOND  SOLDIER. 

As  high  as  Haman  shall  they  swing; 

For  all  who  enter  that  dark  door  leave  hope  behind ! 

FIRST  SOLDIER    (hammering  within). 

Hark!  hark!     Those  scaffold-builders  hammer  down 

The  voice  of  lawyers  and  proclaim  the  law. 

O  glorious  martial  law,  that  ere  it  mocks 

The  culprit  with  a  trial  builds  his  jumping  board! 

All  other  courts  would  pull  the  scaffold  down 

Or  let  it  rot  between  the  sluggish  terms; 

But  martial  law  delights  in  expedition.     Ha!  ha!  ha! 

[133] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


SECOND  SOLDIER. 

When  did  the  court  convene?    Were  all  tried? 

FIRST  SOLDIER. 

Tried  in  a  horn — ha!  ha!    A  drumhead  for  the  judgment  seat, 
A  quick  decision,  and  a  winding  sheet — ha!  ha! 

Enter  Madame  Surratt  with  soldiers — Father  Walter  at  her 
side — She  bears  a  crucifix. 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

O  I  do  tremble  so;  yet  innocence  should  give 

My  poor  knees  firmness  and  sustain  my  heart. 

Why,  Father,  should  I  tremble  like  some  guilty  thing? 

You  know  that  I  am  innocent. 

FATHER  WALTER. 

Yes,  child ;  yes,  yes !    Be  calm,  my  child ! 
Our  Divine  Lord  fell  beneath  his  cross. 

She   staggers;   Father   Walter   sustains   her   and  presents   the 
crucifix — Madame  Surratt  kisses  it. 

MADAME  SURRATT. 

Yes,  thou  canst  strengthen  me,  for  all  alone 

Thy  precious  feet  did  climb  to  Calvary, 

And  three  times  didst  thou  fall  beneath  thy  cross. 

What  wonder,  then,  that  I  should  tremble  so, 

With  all  my  sins  to  weigh  me  down ! 

O  glorious  honor,  thus  to  follow  Thee. 

Enter  Annie  Surratt,  sobbing.    Enter  Payne  with  heavy  chains. 

ANNIE. 
Mother ! 

Soldiers  holding   her  back — Weeping  and  sobbing   of  mother 
and  child. 

PAYNE. 

God  hath  no  thunder  left  in  Heaven, 
And  Hell  no  power  to  gape  her  ebon  jaws, 
Or  earth  would  open  wade  for  yonder  dome, 
With  all  this  martial  power,  to  topple  down 
And  save  this  woman  from  her  doom ! 


[134] 


MADAME      SURRATT 


MADAME  SURRATT. 

Soft!    Soft!    There  is  a  judgment  yet  to  come, 

And  God  withholds  his  thunderbolts  till  then ; 

Meanwhile  my  murderers  one  by  one  shall  fall, 

Till  suicide  and  misery  engulf  them  all. 

May  heaven  forgive !    They  know  not  what  they  do. 

Farewell,  my  friends!    To  all,  farewell. 

And  thou,  my  child,  a  last  and  long  farewell !    Farewell ! 

Heaven's  blessings  on  the  child !    Farewell,  farewell ! 

They  thrust  her  in  prison — Push  Payne  with   bayonets — He 
sweeps  them  off  with  his  chains. 

PAYNE. 

Stand  back,  villains!    Let  me  walk  into  my  tomb! 
(Curtain  falls.) 


FINIS. 


[135] 


